


Abnormal

by Unforth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Body Dysphoria, Bottom Jimmy, Castiel and Jimmy Novak Are Twins, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Incest, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Kidnapping, Knotting, Light Masochism, M/M, Marking, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean, Omega Jimmy, Oral Sex, POV Dean Winchester, POV Jimmy Novak, POV Third Person Limited, Past Abuse, Polyamory, Protective Castiel, Protective Jimmy, Pseudo Fuck or Die, Switch Dean, Tattoos, Therapy, Top Castiel, Trans Character, Twincest, light blood play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-20 04:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4773158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel and Jimmy Novak have defied the conventional understanding of alpha/beta/omega presentation by showing different despite their identical genes. Poster children for a movement insisting that some of a/b/o presentation is based on "nurture" instead of "nature," all Castiel and Jimmy want is to be left to themselves, just the two of them.</p><p>Dean doesn't know how he might have presented, because John Winchester turned to medical science to guarantee that his son would be an alpha. Afraid that John will treat Sam the same, Dean does what he must to protect his little brother.</p><p>They meet at the University of Illinois at a meeting of "Abnormal," the local chapter of the national organization dedicated to trans-presenters, multi-presenters, non-presenters, and others whose bodies do not fall in to the "normal" alpha, beta or omega designations.</p><p>**NOTE: This story is hard to come up with accurate tags for. There will be some fluff and a lot of smut but also some very dark. I'll try to come up with better tags. :) **</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: January 24th, 2008

**Author's Note:**

> A message on Tumblr suggesting I write Deanjimstiel A/B/O spawned [this ficlet](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/post/128401008538/abo-is-like-catnip-to-many-people-add-in), which has turned into this story.
> 
> I'm REALLY struggling to come up with accurate tags for this story, but basically, this story is an exploration of gender fluidity and expression...but with a whole mess of romance and some smut and some dark added in. Of course, instead of gender, it's a society where alpha, beta and omega types are seen as "absolutes," except that in order to maintain that belief they have to ignore all of the people who don't fall neatly into these designations. The characters are not trans-sexual - they are "trans-presenters." There are intentional parallels to real world issues, but there are also intentional differences, so please keep that in mind as you read. Now, that said...if I say something that strikes you as out of line, PLEASE let me know. I am not an expert on this kind of thing and I am always open to learning more. The last thing I want to do is hurt feelings - these are tough topics, and tackling them makes me nervous because I don't want to offend, but I personally think part of the role of fiction is to tackle difficult subject matter, so I'm going to do my best, and I'd appreciate your help, as a reader, in steering me right if I go wrong.
> 
> I have no idea how long this fic will be but I'm guessing somewhere around 100k. I will not be updating on a regular schedule; instead I expect to alternate working on this and working on "What Do I Stand For" for the foreseeable future.
> 
> As with many A/B/O worlds, this is similar to standard A/B/O but there are some differences. I'll do my best to integrate these differences into the narrative as I write, but if you find yourself with questions about how A/B/O works in this world, please feel free to ask and I will answer if I possibly can without spoilers.
> 
>  **Note on the Underage Tag** :  
> There is underage sex between two consenting teenagers in the prologue of the book (Chapter 1). There is description of another underage character masturbating, also in the first chapter. Based on current plans, this will be the only underage sexual content in this story.
> 
> Chapter 1 is a prologue. Rest of the story goes from there. Feedback always welcome. I hope you enjoy!

**Prologue: January 24 th, 2008**

Shouldering the low bookcase aside, Jimmy slumped against the wall, breathing hard. The shelving hardly weighed anything with all the books and knickknacks removed and stacked on the floor nearby, but his entire body felt achy and swelteringly hot. Even the minimal effort involved in emptying the shelves and shoving the furniture aside left him winded. It should be impossible for the house to feel so warm in the depths of an Illinois winter – Lord knew he’d never found his drafty, under-eave bedroom hot in the past – but today it was all he could do to make himself function, it was so sultry. His pajamas were soaked with sweat and slick. He was simultaneously ashamed of and intrigued by the dampness coating his thighs, growing sticky as it dried in place. He could feel the lubricating slick pooling within his body, leaking from his ass. When Jimmy broke past the parental locks on their home computer he had found plenty of pictures of omegas, male and female, spread wide and dripping; of alphas, knots thick and red and swollen; but it was one thing to know about the phenomena and another entirely to experience it.

_So hot. So empty. So horny. I need so much. I need someone, anyone._

With the bookcase pushed aside from the wall, a jaggedly cut square hole was revealed. In the midnight darkness, it looks frighteningly black and bottomless, but it was only a foot deep, not even long enough to earn the name “tunnel,” and it ended in the blank wood back of a bookcase identical to the one that Jimmy had just shoved aside. Their parents thought that Jimmy and Castiel shouldn’t share a bedroom. Their parents thought them too close. Their parents said that growing boys needed space and privacy. Jimmy and Cassie thought that was bullshit, and over the course of several nights when they were first separated they’d use handsaws to carve away the dry wall separating them until they could crawl back and forth. They only used the passageway in the depths of the night when everyone else in the family was asleep and every light in the house was off. Then, they’d push the bookcases aside and reunite, crawl into bed together tangling arms and legs. They’d take care of each other and sleep restfully as they never did alone. Come morning, they’d awake to a quiet alarm set for pre-dawn, retreat to their separate spaces and once again pretend that they did nothing that siblings ought not do. Usually, they came together right at midnight. As a distant church bell tolled, Jimmy waited uneasily, body desperate for touch, and wondered why Cassie hadn’t joined him.

_No, not anyone, I need Cassie, I need my brother. Please help me, Castiel, please!_

The doctor had said Jimmy’s heat and Cassie’s rut would pass within a week. That had been the only useful piece of information that the medical professionals had been able to provide in a long day spent speaking with every andrologist and gynecologist at the hospital that his and Cassie’s panicked parents had taken them to. If the baffled “experts” were to be believed, the only thing more unbelievable than that two siblings – even identical twins – would present on the same day was that identical twins would present differently. Apparently, this never happened. Apparently, this was a medical marvel. Apparently, there wasn’t a single person in Pontiac who knew what to make of this, not a single one who had seen anything like it, which wasn’t saying much. It felt like they’d been seen by every damn physician with an even vaguely related specialty from within at least 50 miles. A lab-coated old man had even driven down from Chicago to impart his wisdom that no matter how similar they appeared they obviously must _not_ be twins and had made various innuendos about their mother that had left Jimmy and Cassie snickering and their father stammering and blushing. Only a moron could believe they weren’t twins. They were precisely the same down to the last detail; even their parents and siblings couldn’t tell them apart by sight or scent unless they dressed differently. Except that Cassie was an alpha, and Jimmy was an omega. The hospital had forced further appointments on them for tomorrow, when they’d be meeting with more experts coming down from the city, a prospect whose only enticing aspect was that it guaranteed that Jimmy wouldn’t have to try to go to school while he was dripping.

Jimmy didn’t give a shit how remarkable he and Cassie were, all he wanted to know was what on earth was he supposed to do to stop feeling like he was burning up from the inside. His mother had told him he was complaining too much; the only doctor who hadn’t be a distant, over-professional asshole had sympathetically explained that he wasn’t legally allowed to make “those kinds” of suggestions; and when they’d gotten home his parents had locked him in his bedroom after pointedly making sure that nothing even vaguely phallic was within reach, going so far as to take away the jar of pencils and pens on his desk. Mr. and Mrs. Novak had strict feelings about masturbation that Jimmy and Cassie had always covertly, happily ignored, taking care of themselves and each other as need and opportunity allowed.

In the past few hours, Jimmy had tried masturbating and found it depressingly unsatisfying. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand the concept of what he was supposed to do – no matter how sheltered his parents tried to keep him and Cassie and their other siblings, Jimmy was 14 and he wasn’t an idiot – it was that he had only the vaguest idea of how to do it. Insert fingers in anus…and then what, exactly? With only his hand to work with, all he’d been able to manage was awkward half-thrusts that burst neon behind his eyes and felt _amazing_ and left him desperate for more, for deeper, for something bigger and thicker. His preliminary explorations of his ass, the tight pucker of muscles, the hot slickness within, had been adequate to bring his desperate body, overstimulated by hormones, to gasping orgasm, but utterly insufficient to meet the raw need screaming through him. He had to have something inside him. He’d searched his room, his drawers, his closet, for a surrogate cock with which to fill himself, but he hadn’t had any luck. In his heart, he had to admit it had been a token effort. He knew what he wanted, what he _really_ wanted, but the fact that Cassie wasn’t already in his room frightened him, made him think he was alone in his desires.

 _A knot, I need a knot, that’s what this feeling is, what this feelings mean. What does that_ feel _like, how can I want something so much when I’ve never experienced it?_

Surely his father knew what it felt like to be in heat, surely Mr. Novak was aware as Mrs. Novak never truly could be that a heat couldn’t be ignored or prayed into going away. Yet his father had been the one to turn the key in the lock and remind Jimmy sternly that he was still expected to be a _good boy_ even though he was experiencing his first heat. His father had been the one to remind him that sin is punished and virtue rewarded. His father had been the one to search his room for illicit sexual objects, even lifting up Jimmy’s mattress and sticking his head under Jimmy’s bed. He hadn’t found anything inappropriate; Jimmy hid his pornography in the crawlspace between their rooms and didn’t own any toys because he’d never imagined he’d need one. He’d always assumed he’d present alpha, since both he and Cassie were well-endowed, both he and Cassie had the excess skin and built-up muscle at the base of their cocks that indicated that a knot would form. It had never occurred to Jimmy that he wouldn’t be an alpha, even though he knew objectively that there were omegas that had good sized cocks – he’d stared avidly at the pictures of such he’d found on the internet – and that many betas showed secondary sexual characteristics of alphas and omegas. _Everyone_ thought that Jimmy and Castiel would be alphas. He wasn’t unhappy to be proved wrong, though. The unexpected divergence between himself and his brother had, in the space of a scant dozen hours, opened up a whole slew of options he’d scarce allowed himself to dream of prior.

 _Cassie has a knot now, he’s in rut, surely he needs my slick, my ass, as badly as I need him, how could he not? But if he does, why isn’t he in here? After scenting me all day, is it possible he doesn’t want this as much as I do? He smelled so_ good _. He’s not supposed to smell good. Maybe I don’t smell good to him! God, I feel like such a prissy omega stereotype, whining that my date stood me up. But…_

His parents didn’t know how ineffective locking Jimmy in his room truly was.

Mustering his energy, all too aware that he was leaving a wet spot where he’d sat on the carpeting, Jimmy got on his hands and knees and stuck his head into the short tunnel. When they’d first cut it, it had been tall enough that Jimmy could sit upright, leaning against the stud, but now he had to squat down and hunch his back awkwardly to fit. With a light touch, Jimmy ran his nails along the back of the bookcase in Cassie’s room, making a scratching sound that could easily be mistaken for an animal in the walls or a cat on the roof on the off chance anyone else in the family overheard.

Whiffs of tantalizing scent found their way through the sliver of a gap between the bookcase and the wall. Inhaling deeply, Jimmy nearly swooned, it was so unbelievably good. Supposedly, it was as impossible for identical twins to smell good to each other as it was for them to present differently, not that either Cassie or Jimmy were foolish enough to tell the doctors about the fact that they found each other’s scent to be sweet perfection. Cassie had always smelled amazing to Jimmy, citrus and vanilla and butter, so delicious that even normally Jimmy could swear he could taste the flavors in his mouth. After a lifetime of trying to pin down precisely what Cassie smelled like, the closest he’d ever come was lemon meringue pie. The aroma always lingered in Jimmy’s room since they alternated where they spent the night, and Jimmy had already squeezed two inadequate orgasms from his aching cock by surrounding himself in the faint, lingering traces of heady scent that suffused his blankets and pillows. This close to the bookcase, the smell was amplified two-fold, five-fold, and Jimmy tucked himself with difficulty into the tiny space, allowing the smell to intoxicate him, slick soaking thickly through his pants, palming his cock and biting his lip to keep from moaning. With all the desperate, urgent need that lit him afire, Jimmy clawed at the back of the bookcase again.

“Go ‘way,” Cassie’s voice was faint through the obstruction, lower than Jimmy had ever heard it, rough, breathy.

“Please, Cassie.” Desire made it hard to whisper, hard to resist the urge to throw all his weight against the back of the bookcase and force entry into the older twin’s room, impossible not to beg. “I can’t be alone right now, not tonight, I want…I _need_ …”

“I _can’t_ ,” snarled Cassie, much too loudly. “We _mustn’t_.”

“Why not?” demanded Jimmy. “How is this different from before?”

“How can you ask me that, Jimmy?” Cassie asked. Pressing his ear to the bookcase, Jimmy could hear Cassie shifting and moving, hear him panting, hear the faintest whisper of a groan that drove Jimmy mad with the need to touch himself, to have Cassie touch him. He knew that sound, he recognized it from every time he and Cassie had held each other close and touched each other everywhere. “This is _completely_ different. You’re an omega now and I’m an alpha.”

“I dunno.” Jimmy’s hand dug into his pants as a burst of fresh slick leaked from him. Cassie made a noise that – regardless of reality – Jimmy’s imagination identified as a whimper and Jimmy rubbed his fingers down the sensitive flesh behind his balls and massaged over his hole, gummy with thick release. Each breath was a desperate gasp, making speaking difficult, but he forced himself to talk. Nothing was more important than convincing Cassie to come to his room. “Don’t you think that sounds kind of perfect?” God, he _needed_ , he’d never imagined how empty he could feel, how urgently he could require something that had never been of interest before.

“Jimmy…” A low moan, audible now, accompanied the sound of Cassie’s elbow knocking lightly against the side of the bookcase over and over again.

“Tell me this hasn’t crossed your mind over and over again since this morning,” whispered Jimmy suggestively. Instinct screamed that everything he craved was just on the other side of the wall, the most delicious person he had ever smelled, the most amazing cock, the _perfect_ man that was his brother. The sounds from the other side of the wall stopped abruptly. “ _Tell me_ you haven’t been thinking that this is _exactly_ what you would have chosen, if a person could control how they presented.”

“It’s _wrong_ , Jimmy,” Cassie whispered desperately.

“Says who?” Sourceless, blinding pleasure seared Jimmy’s senses from nowhere only to ebb and leave him even more in need. _I want a knot. I need a knot. Cassie’s knot. No one else. No one else ever gets to have me._ “Use your nose, Cas. If it were wrong, would it smell so _right_?”

Long, agonizing moments passed in silence. Unable to bear the tension, unable to think of anything beyond how amazing Cassie smelled, Jimmy scooped his hips forward so he could touch himself, nudging two fingers through the ring of muscles. The angle worked slightly better than any he’d found on the bed and he huffed a faint moan as his thin digits easily slid within him to the first knuckle, way eased near frictionless by the amount of slick he was producing. Dammit, they were so _small_ , so _inadequate_ , but it was all he had. He worked around his rim, pleasure coursing through his blood, throbbing through his aching cock, thoughts blanked by more sensation than he’d ever experienced before, lips mouthing his brother’s name like the most fervent prayer he’d made his entire life.

With a scraping sound, the bookcase shifted to show muted dark blue darkness beyond. Before Jimmy could do more than gasp in amazement Cassie was on him, pushing him to the floor, pressing him against the carpeting, hands on his shoulders, lips working against lips, bodies rutting. A knee spread Jimmy’s legs apart roughly, forced space for Cassie to settle between them, and Cassie ground his hard cock against Jimmy’s crotch through their pajama pants.

“Need you,” growled Cassie aggressively, nipping along the line of Jimmy’s chin, hips thrusting hard enough against Jimmy that the carpet forced his shirt up, abraded the skin thus exposed. Whimpers escaped Jimmy as his hips rutted up, what he craved so close and yet still so far away. A hand smothered his mouth, forcing him to draw desperate breaths through his nose. “This is…this is…God, we’ll get in so much trouble but I can’t, Jimmy, I can’t…you smell so _good_ …” Cassie buried his face in the curve of Jimmy’s neck, snuffling and mouthing at the soft skin there. “Not supposed to…not supposed to _be_ like this…”

 _Knot me, Cassie, knot me, I want it to be you, it has to be you._ Jimmy mouthed the words uselessly against Cassie’s hand, sucking at the pads of his palm. Growling low in his throat, Cassie reached down to lower his pants, freeing himself without pausing in the hard rhythm. Unthinking, Jimmy did the same, using the hand he’d been pleasuring himself with to tug his pajama bottoms out of the way as best he could. Cassie’s cock slipped between Jimmy’s legs and Cassie muffled a groan against Jimmy’s shirt, urgently rubbing into the dampness that smoothed every movement. The thickened head of Cassie’s cock coursed up and down Jimmy’s crack as Jimmy’s fingers had done minutes before, and where Jimmy’s fingers had spread sparks, Cassie lit a bonfire, left Jimmy so hot he could have wept for it, he felt so good. Faint pleading noises died against Cassie’s hand.

“If we do this…” Cassie broke into a shuddering gasp, struggling to restrain himself. “There’s no going back…it’s _not_ the same…not the same as what we’ve done…what we did before. I _need_ …need you…tell me that this…tell me you want this. _Please_ , brother…please…need to hear you say…” Cassie ground to a halt, chest heaving, panting, holding himself over Jimmy with one hand, pulling the other from Jimmy’s mouth, the beginning swell of a knot obvious between Jimmy’s thighs.

Jimmy wrapped a hand around his brother’s head, buried his fingers amid thick, dark, sweaty tendrils, brought Cassie slowly down so he could sniff at Cassie’s scent. Orange and lemon and lime swirled together, sweet with sugar, flavored vanilla and cream and butter. Smelling it wasn’t enough, he needed to taste, to be enveloped, and he nipped and licked at the glands as his hips chased the wonderful feelings lost when Cassie stopped moving. He tried to set his other hand on Cassie’s cheek, but Cassie stared at it like he was starving, eyes wide and dark in the unlit room, and mouthed at the fingers with soft lips, sucking down the slick coating them. Trembling with the difficulty of keeping still, Cassie choked back whimpers deep in his throat, converting them to guttural grunts that were even more of a turn on, and didn’t stop running his tongue along Jimmy’s hand.

_God, he’s perfect, he’s always been perfect, he’ll always be perfect. No one but you, brother, no one but you._

“I love you, Castiel,” Jimmy breathed the words he’d nursed his heart for years. His brother spasmed against him, bit back a sob of pleasure, barely aborted another thrust. “Be my mate.” A possessive noise rumbled low in Cassie’s chest. Jimmy pulled his finger from Cassie’s mouth, smeared a line of saliva and slick along his cheek, drew his brother down and kissed him. Tentatively, Jimmy ran his tongue over Cassie’s lips. They’d rarely kissed, never open mouthed, but there wasn’t the least hesitance as Cassie opened for him. Their tongues flicked wetly together and the mingled taste of himself and Cassie, similar yet subtly different, flooded his mouth. Slowly, confidently, Cassie began to pump his hips again. The kiss ended, Cassie pulled away slightly, and they stared into each other eyes, heartbeats and breathing matched quick and needy.

“Someday,” promised Cassie. A fumbling, uncertain hand reached between their bodies, ran with trembling curiosity over Jimmy’s slick pucker, wrapped around Cassie’s cock to line them up. Jimmy couldn’t stop himself shaking in pleasure and anticipation. Cassie _did_ want this too, it wasn’t just him, and that meant _everything_ to Jimmy. “Mom says we have to go back to the doctor tomorrow. If I mark you now, they’ll see - we can’t let them see. But someday…” the blunt head of Cassie’s cock pressed against him and it was all Jimmy could not to push against the contact with all his might, not cry out, not to come immediately. “…I will, I swear I will, when we’re older. No one but you, Jimmy, just the two of us, forever.”

Only Cassie’s hand placed back over his mouth kept Jimmy from crying out when Cassie uncertainly, inexpertly breached him. Unspeakable pressure, bliss, and satisfaction rocked Jimmy nearly senseless His eyes fluttered open and shut, showing him glimpses of Cassie’s rapturous face, lit pale by the dim moonlight that came through the bedroom window. Nothing else in the world existed. Cassie moved slowly, Jimmy’s body unused to being filled, resistant even with the ample slick. Then the head of Cassie’s cock stretched him, pushed past straining muscles, and he was inside Jimmy. The resistance vanished and the force with which Cassie had been pushing forward buried himself completely in Jimmy in a single thrust, the sharp tug of a nascent knot penetrating Jimmy’s body with a wet slap of flesh against flesh.

 _That_ , that was _exactly_ the feeling that Jimmy had craved, and his thoughts screamed perfection and pleasure that Cassie’s hand could barely restrain. He’d known that, as an omega in heat, his body was demanding a knot, but he’d no frame of reference for what that truly meant, what it would feel like. Good _God_ , it was spectacular. Cassie’s mouth was open wide around an enormous, silent groan, eyes rolling back in his head as his back arched backwards. Every muscle in his body strained towards the place where they were joined. With hardly a pause, Cassie hitched his hips back and pushed back in, his knot swelling rapidly, already large enough that it barely won back within Jimmy, the feeling of it stretching Jimmy’s hole even wider leaving him senseless with ecstasy.

It was over in moments. They were both too young, too inexperienced, the feelings were too new, their bodies too sensitive. With only a few hard, ill-controlled thrusts, Cassie’s knot caught gloriously within Jimmy and they tumbled into orgasm together, hips pumping, muscles in Jimmy’s ass compressing and releasing, mouths pressed to each other’s scent points in a frantic effort to keep quiet, the effectiveness of which they were both too far gone to assess.

They stayed frozen for long minutes, bodies pressed together, Cassie’s knot locking him inside Jimmy, Cassie’s cock filling Jimmy gloriously, sweat slowly cooling as the room finally, finally ceased to feel like the depths of a humid summer day. They breathed as one, they trembled as one, they lay silent, united more closely than they’d ever been before, and the hope that Jimmy had scarce dared nurse in his breast since he and his brother had hit gender puberty finally burst into wonderful expectation. They _could_ have this together, they could share this, against all the odds that said identical twins always, _always_ presented as the same dominance type. Content, happy, Jimmy wrapped his arms around his brother and sighed, easing against the carpet.

“4 years,” Cassie breathed in his ear. “Once we’re 18, once we’re at college, there’ll be no one to stop us, no one to see if we mark each other, if we claim each other. Can you wait that long?” Jimmy nodded. He could wait forever as long as they could share this. “No one but you, Jimmy, no one but you…”

* * *

“Dean, take your medicine,” shouted John tiredly from the living room. Freezing in front of the bedroom door, Dean grimaced. It had been too much to hope that his dad would forget. As long as Dean wasn’t reminded, he could pretend his oversight was accidental. As long as Dean wasn’t reminded, John could be fooled into thinking that Dean was an idiot instead of deliberately disobedient. Once the reminder came, he ceased to have a choice. For years, Dean had dared to hope if he did what his father wanted, John’s obsession with Dean’s dominance presentation might fade, but instead he only grew worse and worse. The cost of Dean’s medical bills had grown so great that John worked three jobs to cover them, requesting time off and scheduling coverage to drive Dean to his appointments in Kansas City. There’d been a point when Dean had been grateful that his dad worked so hard on his behalf, cared so much about him, was so devoted to him, wanted so badly to help Dean get better. Time had worn away his appreciation. In the two years since his surgery, John hadn’t listened to a thing Dean had said nor cared one bit that Dean was growing sicker. As guilty as acknowledging the truth made Dean feel, he could no longer delude himself that any of what John pushed him into had anything to do with what  _Dean_ needed or wanted. Despite that, he couldn’t bring himself to stop. The consequences of disobeying his father frightening him too much, especially the impact that any rebellion on Dean’s part might have on Sam.

“Doin’ it right now, dad,” he lied unhappily. Sighing, he crossed the hall to the tiny bathroom. He’d been feet from escape, inches, from getting in the bedroom and locking the door. John wouldn’t pester him if it meant waking Sam up. Thank God, John was so invested in Dean that he didn’t pay any attention to Sam and the early signs that Sam was likely to be omega. _Like I would have been_. He quashed the thought. There was no way to know that. Increasingly, dread tightened his chest when he thought about Sam’s future. Though Dean was still willing to strive to be everything John wanted from a son, he could never stand aside and allow John to do to Sam what had been done to Dean. Fortunately, it had been a non-issue thus far. Dean’s body had as yet shown no sign of accepting his surgery. The wounds had healed, sure, but he was 15 and he still hadn’t presented, despite all the follow up appointments and treatments, despite all the pills he swallowed every day. Nothing would distract John until Dean presented. Nothing would distract John until he was sure that Dean was an alpha. As long as Dean held John’s undivided attention, Sam was safe.

The medicine cabinet was filled with a fucking pharmacy worth of bottles. The bottom shelf held the basics – John’s vitamin, the gummies that Sam took every day, a worn old box of band-aids, a pair of nail clippers, three tubes of toothpaste, deodorant – but the middle and top shelf were stuffed with all of the orange bottles that had been prescribed to Dean over the past few years. One by one, he took each down and popped them open until his hand was cupped around nearly twenty pills in different shapes and sizes. He hadn’t the last clue what most of them did, only that Dr. Alastair sent him home with the slips of paper and no matter how crappy Dean felt, John made him walk to CVS and fill each one, reminded him to take them every damn day. Filling a small paper cup with water, Dean deliberately forced himself to swallow them all in batches of two or three, except the big, vile tasting purple one that he had to take on its own. His thoughts screamed at him not to, to take the handful, throw them in the toilet and flush them, but he repressed the thought and squeezed his eyes shut against the way his stomach instantly twisted. He knew the meds couldn’t be making him nauseous that quickly, knew that it was all in his head. He wouldn’t actually sick up until he started to digest the pills.

When he’d gotten them all swallowed down, Dean brushed his teeth, retreated to the bedroom dejectedly and crawled into bed. Lying on his side, Dean wrapped his arms over his aching belly, knees folded up and in protectively.

Dr. Alastair said that once his body accommodated to the treatment, the sickness would stop. Dr. Alastair said that this was the only way for Dean to have a rut, the only way for Dean to be an alpha. Dr. Alastair said that he had successfully completed this surgery and hormone treatment hundreds of times, that he of all the doctors in the world had found the way to overcome that which nature intended. Dr. Alastair said that he had carved Dean into a new animal.

Dean hated him.

The first year after his surgery hadn’t been so bad. Okay, fine, that was bullshit, at the time it had been pretty damn lousy: he’d gotten a nasty infection, then his body had rejected the graft, and all the while he was trying to get used to all the new hormones in his system. John had flipped out when he learned from Dr. Alastair that Dean was producing slick, and flipped out _again_ afterwards because Dean hadn’t _told_ him that he was producing slick. It had been one thing after another, and he’d hated every minute of it, but in comparison to now it had been a cake walk. The day Dean turned 15 without having presented, John arranged for an emergency appointment and hauled Dean to Kansas City on his damn _birthday_ to find out what the problem was.

“ _We’ll just have to up his dosages_ ,”Dr. Alastair had said soothingly _._ “ _Don’t worry, your son is going to be perfect._ ”

“ _He’d better be_.”

Life had been utter garbage during the two months since then.

With doses in the morning, afternoon and evening, Dean spent all day sick and could hardly keep a meal down. His clothing hung off his shoulders, his pants low-slung over his hips and ass. On its tightest notch, his belt was still too long now. It seemed like no matter how much he rested, it was never enough. His eyes were permanently gritty from lack of sleep. His body ached, his hair was thinning even as his beard was suddenly growing in like it never had before. He had to shave daily. His cock was sore all the time and hard much too frequently, even by the standards of puberty. The forced arousal the hormones induced twisting unpleasantly in his gut, leaving him as sick on the pleasure as he was on everything else. The faded scars between his balls and his shaft itched and burned. It was impossible to concentrate, impossible to pretend that he felt anything other than terrible. One of his teachers had taken him aside and asked worriedly if everything was okay at home, and Dean had lied and said he was sick but didn’t want to miss school. Come to that, it wasn’t a lie. He _was_ sick, wasn’t that what John always said, wasn’t that what all this was meant to fix?

 _Bullshit_.

There’d been a time, when he was 8, 9, 10, when he’d believed what John said: that this was the only way, that Dean was busted and he needed to be fixed, that this was what was best for Dean, that in a decade he’d look back and think it was all worth it, that Dean’s life would be better because he was going to be an alpha. It was impossible to believe any more. He’d watched all his friends go through their presentations, seen that it didn’t fucking _matter_ who was an alpha, an omega, or a beta. Sure, it impacted who would bear children, who would be a caretaker, who would mate and who would penetrate. Some people were excited, some disappointed, some unsurprised. Some people amended their career plans, some people got pissed, some people got cocky, but it had nothing to do with how they presented and everything to do with their personalities and, occasionally, the expectations of their families. All that presentation bias crap was so last generation. No one gave a shit anymore. Except that John Winchester gave a shit, had always given a shit, had never considered simply allowing Dean to be whatever he was going to be.

He was dozing in bed when the sear of acid burned at his throat painfully. He was heaving into the garbage beside his bed before he’d fully woken up.

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam whispered nervously. Dean wished there was something that he could do to stop the boy from worrying about him.

“I’m fine,” lied Dean. God, he lied to _everyone_ now. His father hadn’t left him with any other options. “Go back to sleep.”

Silence stretched out and Dean dared to hope that Sam had gone back to bed. He coughed up more bile, the half-digested pills vile tasting and scratchy as he upchucked them, gritty against his tongue. The room was dark save for the line of light glowing beneath the door. There were no windows, no light, and the space was barely large enough for their two small beds. They’d never had much, not since their mother died and the family was reduced to one income, they’d lived in near-poverty. Even though John worked more now, they had even less. Dean’s treatments weren’t cheap and few were covered by insurance, and so they lived in a small, ratty apartment in a student slum in Lawrence living on ramen and boxes of mac and cheese. Dean intended to get a job when he was 16, maybe drop out of school, so he could start contributing more to the family. Sam deserved better. His brother was still so small and scrawny – surely Dean had been taller and broader than that when he was 11! – and Dean would do anything to give Sam the life that Dean had never had a chance at.

_Dad and Sam have given up so much for my treatments. I should be grateful. I should be appreciative. I should want this for myself as much as dad wants this for me._

The thought was plaintive and hard to credit when he was hacking his guts into a garbage can every fucking morning and night.

“You know...you could stop,” Sam broached.

“Sammy—”

“Just because dad says you have to...you don’t _actually_ have to,” Sam pressed on.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” snapped Dean, but it was half-hearted. He buried his head against a crooked elbow, curled fetal around his queasy stomach.

“But Dean...” whine Sam.

“Now, Sam,” he barked. It was all Dean could do every day to convince himself to keep going, to keep taking his medicines, to keep going to school, to keep getting out of bed at all. If he had to start convincing Sam too, he’d break.

His brother sighed but didn’t say anything else. Dean lay in the silent dark for a long time, waiting for his brother’s breathing to return to the steady evenness of deep sleep. He managed to bite back further coughs, choke down further vomit, and the hours til morning stretched out endlessly before him.

_...Pale lips traced kisses down his chest, gentle fingers toyed with his nipples, hot breath ghosted over his cock, a sultry tongue licked at the tip, something thick and hard pressed at his ass, stretched him open, his slick smoothed the way..._

“Dean!”

Something was shaking him violently. Dean woke with a groan, panting desperately, his erection painfully hard even as pleasure scattered like fireflies across his foggy thoughts.

“Sam?” he croaked.

“Dean, are you okay?” A hand pulled away from his shoulder and Dean went limp against the bed. Sammy’s presence beside him was palpable even though Dean couldn’t see anything. He had no idea what time it was, but the hallway light was off. John must be out on a late night call for the tow company.

“Fine, Sammy, I’m fine, I...” His hand ghosted to his hardness, movement covered by the night and his thin blanket. Trembling fingers unzipped his fly, reached into his jeans, found the moisture pooled at the tip of his cock, the stiffness below, the swollen knot at the base. Dean moaned hugely.

“No, you’re not! You’re really sick,” Sam said, frightened. “Dean, you’ve got to talk to dad, you’ve got to stop taking all those pills, it’s not healthy. I looked up some of the labels on Google. Do you even _know_ what you’re putting in your body? What dad’s doing to you?”

His knot had _never_ swollen before, that was the whole damn point of the medications he was on: to finally make him an alpha, to force him to present, to induce the flesh surgically grafted from his balls to form a knot at the base of his dick to function as if he’d been born that way.

“I’m having a rut,” he gasped. “ _Shit_.” Even as awful as he felt, the need to touch that sensitive skin was all-consuming. He _had_ to feel, to release, the urge overwhelmed even his self-disgust that he was handling himself with his kid brother only feet away from him. Wrapping fingers around the base of his cock, around the burgeoning knot, he clenched his fist and rubbed urgently. _Just like that, just like that, holy shit I’m close, feels so_ good _, feels so...so wrong...oh God..._

“You need to go to the hospital,” Sam sounded so scared it was chilling, but even that couldn’t win through the need and fire consuming Dean’s body. He’d only scarce hit gender puberty when he went in for the surgery, and had hardly had an erection since then due to the modifications that had been made to his body and the medications he’d been on. With so little experience, the feelings now were unbelievably intense, bordering into painful, yet he _had_ to keep going, had to stroke and massage himself, had to chase release. “I’m going to get help, I’m going to wake dad up—”

“ _No!_ ”

The word tore free from Dean as he came hard, cock spurting in his hand, and _fuck_ did he hope that Sam had no idea what had just happened. Panting as if he’d run laps, Dean waited for his heart rate to slow, waited for his frantic thoughts to come under control.

_John mustn’t know, John mustn’t hear, Sam must not talk to John._

“Sam...” he gasped, his vision flashing white again. His empty stomach roiled and he leaned over and retched acid into the garbage can as a second aftershock of orgasm rocked him. The combination was awful and left Dean curled against the mattress. With difficulty, he forced out, “Turn the lamp on. Grab your bag, pack some shit, we’re getting out of here.”

_John can’t know._

“What?”

_If I’ve presented, then I’m fixed. If I’m fixed, John will stop focusing all his attention on me. If John isn’t focused on me, he’ll start noticing Sam. If John notices Sam, he’ll spot all the little signs that Sam is probably going to present omega. He’ll start to trying to fix Sam._

“We’re leaving.”

 _I_ cannot _let that happen._

“ _Now_?”

“Right now. Pack some clothes, quick. Grab some shit of mine, too. I’ll be ready in a minute.”

 _I cannot let him do to Sam what he’s done to me_.

“Okay...okay.” That was it. No protest. No argument. No disagreement.

_Sam knows it too. Sam knows that it’s not safe for him if we stay here._

There was no way to know how long they had before John got home from his tow job. As Sam quickly stuffed his backpack with necessaries and clothing, Dean tugged on his boots and ransacked John’s drawers, hoping to find some money, but there didn’t seem to be a penny in the house. Dean didn’t have any money at all, and when asked Sam ruefully produced a five dollar bill.

_God we’re fucked. It doesn’t matter. We can’t stay here._

Five minutes saw them ready to go. Throwing on his leather jacket and tossing Sam his winter coat, Dean grabbed the spare keys from the table next to the door and heaved a sigh of relief as he went out to the driveway and saw that his dad had taken the pickup truck with him and left the compact. If not for that, Dean might have been forced to take the Impala. His father would follow that car to the ends of the earth if Dean stole it.

 _John would follow that car further than he’d follow his sons_.

Once they were on the road, they were soon swallowed into the silence of early morning. The adrenaline surge of his orgasm and his fear wore off, and the harsh reality of how terrible he felt slowly wore on him as he pushed on, driving inexpertly, doing his damnedest to obey the traffic laws for fear of what might happen if they were pulled over. He didn’t have a license, had barely driven before in his life, and was obviously underage. At least he knew the trip to Kansas City like the back of his hand, fuck knew he’d done it enough times. That was a big enough city that they could fade away, disappear. No one would find them there. His head ached, arousal and disgust and nausea pulsed through his body, but the thought that they had to get away spurred him on. He couldn’t face his father knowing that all that shit had worked, he couldn’t face waking up at home in the morning and taking all those pills again, couldn’t _conceive_ of allowing Sam, little, innocent Sammy, to visit Dr. Alastair’s office. Maybe Dean had needed fixing, but Sam definitely didn’t. His brother was sweet and caring and brilliant and trusting and there wasn’t a damn thing about him that Dean would change.

Sam sat silently, shadowed face tense with worry that made him look years older than he actually was. The miles seemed to pass in fits and starts, some endless, others passing so quickly that he’d look up and realized that several had gone by. They reached the city in no time. Driving along the highway, the lights of the city twinkling in the dark and illuminating the sky brightly, seemed small in the night, and the belief that Kansas City could make an adequate safe haven fell away.

_It’s the nearest city to home. It’s the first place dad will look. Dr. Alastair is here. Dad has spent loads of time here. Someone will see us. Someone might recognize us. He’ll find us, of course he’ll find us. After how long he’s worked to get the perfect son he’s not going to let me go now. I have to get Sammy to safety._

A sign caught his eye, “Omaha, Nebraska,” labeled with an arrow pointing north. Without a clue what he had in mind, Dean took the ramp and pulled on to route 29. They’d started with a full tank of gas. There was no need to stop so close to home. They had to get further away, as far away as possible.

They drove all night, until sunlight pinked the horizon, until the fiery orb seared painfully at his eye, until the day grew bright and the sun rose chill over a landscape that grew increasingly bleak and snowy the further north they went. They passed Rockport, Nebraska City, Omaha. Dean had been to Omaha a few times for medical shit before John decided he liked Dr. Alastair best. Remembering his past visit, remembering driving there with John, left him feeling like they were still too close to home. John could still reach them there. Dean kept them moving, grateful that Sam didn’t complain, didn’t ask to use the bathroom, didn’t ask where they were going. Dean _couldn’t_ stop, and he didn’t have answers to the questions that Sam might ask. They still had nearly half a tank. They could go further.

It was mid-morning when the car gave a miserable stutter and began to slow. Sam was asleep beside him, looking so small and young. Seeing his face, peaceful and relaxed, gave Dean all the strength he needed to push through his fatigue and hunger and nausea and the arousal tingling agonizingly through his body, making him feel like he was on the verge of crawling out of his skin. Dean pressed down on the gas-pedal desperately, but the car didn’t accelerate. The odometer still indicated that they had fuel, but when Dean reflected on how far they’d come, he realized that had to be the problem. They’d easily covered 350 miles, the compact had a small gas tank, it was a miracle they made it as far as they had. As traffic sped by them, honking shrilly as the car slowly decelerated, Dean pulled into the shoulder, coming to a stop alongside a sign that listed the next exit: Sioux Falls, 22 miles.

“Come on, Sammy,” he mumbled, picking at his brother’s jacket.

“Wha...? Where’re we?” Sam slurred, blinking against the morning brightness.

“South Dakota.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Sioux Falls.”

“What’s going on, Dean?” Sam asked worriedly.

“You were right,” Dean said, getting out of the car, walking around to Sam’s side and pulling his door open. The cold of the day was shocking. The past week had been unseasonably warm in Lawrence, temperatures in the 50s and even in the 60s, and South Dakota felt frigid by contrast. It was still going to be a long, unpleasant walk. At least the air was fresh and crisp, helping to clear his head, and the chill felt wonderful against flesh buzzed hot by his rut. The landscape was bleak, thick snow carpeting the land, barren brown field peaking through where the wind had scoured away the cover, distant buildings seeming closer as they shadowed the horizon.

“Huh?” asked Sam, rubbing his eyes.

“You were right about dad,” clarified Dean. He went in the trunk, fishing for anything useful, and came out with a ragged blanket that he tucked around Sammy’s shoulders as the boy buttoned up his jacket and got out of the car. “I don’t have to do what he says, and you _definitely_ don’t have to do what he says. You’re right that I’m not okay. I gotta protect you, Sammy. It’s the only thing I can do that’s of any damn use.”

“Protect me from dad?” asked Sam, and Dean was shocked by how _calm_ he sounded about it, how grown up.

“Yeah.”

There was a long pause, Sam standing unmoving beside the car, Dean lingering by the trunk trying to decide if there was a single helpful thing mixed in with the detritus within, and then Sam nodded. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, you little bitch,” said Dean, abandoning the trunk and joining Sam, scruffing up his hair. “Grab the bag, we got a long walk.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Dean.”

They started walking. The wind swept across the plains, the sun glowed bright without giving the least warmth, and the side of the road was a mess of pebbles, ice chunks, salt, snow, and road debris. Eyes fixed north towards their destination, Dean put Sam on his right, further from the traffic speeding by them, and started walking at a brisk pace, blood-warming pace.

The first five miles were exhausting.

The five miles after that were agonizing.

The five after that were _endless_. Sam tripped and cried out, and though he insisted he was fine, his pants were torn, his knees and hands bloody. With stubborn determination, Dean hefted his brother up and carried him piggy back one plodding step at a time, on the verge of falling on his face the whole time. He hurt everywhere, his head spun, his mouth was parched. The morning stretched into afternoon. Wrapped in his warm blanket, Sam dozed against Dean’s back, arms around Dean’s neck, head lolling on Dean’s shoulder. Dead leaves and lengths of brown hay swirled by on breezes that scorched frigid through his clothing and left his skin numb save for light tingling. He still preferred the chill to the heat, it kept his head relatively clear, kept his body calm, helped him focus, helped him continue.

Traffic was shockingly sparse considering how close they were to the city and most of the cars that went by ignored them, though one or two slowed and honked to get Dean’s attention. Voices called through rolled down windows asked if they were alright, if they needed anything. Dean shook them all away, saying whatever he had to in order to make them leave. Strangers couldn’t be trusted. Who knew if they actually wanted to help? Maybe they wanted to take advantage, maybe they wanted to hurt them, or – most likely and by far worst of all – maybe they would try to take them home. Some passersby were more insistent than others, but in the end all drove away. Even as Dean’s knees began to shake with exhaustion, the tight knot of fear in his chest began to ease. They weren’t far now. Sioux Falls was so far from home, John would never think to look for them there. Once they arrived, they could find somewhere to sleep, they could steal something to eat, they could wait out Dean’s rut, and then Dean could figure out a way to rebuild their lives without John.

“Alright, boys, that’s far enough,” said a stern voice immediately behind him. Dean started, jerked around and collapsed painfully to his knees as his legs refused to support his weight any longer. Sam mumbled something inaudible and shifted but didn’t wake up.

A woman in a cop uniform stood behind him, her brown jacket decorated with a thick, fuzzy neckband and a gold star badge like some douche bag out of a John Wayne movie. Her arms were folded below her breasts, her short dark hair mostly covered by a hat. Rosy cheeks grew more pink as the wind kicked up, her lips were curled in a wry smile, and one eyebrow was quirked at him. Parked scant feet behind her was her patrol car, pulled into the shoulder, sirens off but lights circling red and blue lazily. Dean hadn’t even noticed someone was driving behind him. God he was tired.

“No,” snapped Dean stubbornly, too caught up in his goal to think about how pointless defiance was. He struggled to get his feet under him, but his blistered feet felt swollen and his muscles refused to engage.

“Look, I’m sure your mom and dad have been _incredibly_ unreasonable and that running away sounded like a _great_ idea but you’ve had your fun. They’re certainly worried sick about you, and you it’s time for you to go home now,” she said. Near-frozen liquid soaked through the knees of Dean’s jeans, stinging as the water carried salt into the scrapes he’d gotten when he fell. Sam whimpered unhappily.

“We’re not going back – Sam’s not going back,” Dean growled with all the bravado he could muster. She wasn’t a large woman but she seemed so tall standing over him, looking down with an expression that screamed that she had heard every excuse in the book and wasn’t having any of his bullshit.

“I get it. Eating your vegetables and brushing your teeth is a pain in the butt,” the officer’s eyes grew hard. “You’re a teenager and no one could ever, possibly understand your pain and how _hard_ life is, right?” She paused to give him a chance to speak, but Dean held silent and stared aggression and challenge even as his stomach rumbled emptily and the arms holding Sam to his back trembled. “Game’s over. Don’t make me handcuff you.”

Events happened faster than Dean was able to process. The policewoman started to move towards him, Sam detached from his back and practically leap-frogged Dean’s head, and next thing he knew Sam was standing in front of him, back to Dean, arms stretched wide to separate the police woman from him. She froze, blinking in shock.

“You can’t send Dean home,” declared Sam. “He’s sick, and dad refuses to help him – dad’s making it worse. I’ll go back if you want, but please, you can’t make him. He’ll die!”

“Sammy—!”

“No!” Sam snapped over his shoulder. “You’re right, you _can’t_ stay there, but I can, I’ll be fine.”

“Woah, boys, hold up. What exactly is your daddy doing?” her eyes narrowed but her posture eased. Far from soothing Sam, her change in stance only made him stand taller, back stiff.

“Doesn’t matter,” muttered Dean. “All of this is to protect Sam. I don’t care what happens to me—”

“Dean!”

“—but Sammy _can’t_ be there anymore,” Dean’s teeth chattered, his breath steamed in front of his face. Now that he wasn’t moving, he felt cold to his bones, as if he stood naked before a winter gale.

“Why not?” she asked. “Wait – explanations can wait. You look frozen to death. Get in the car.” Neither boy moved. “I won’t take you home, at least not yet. We can go back to my office and talk. I won’t take you back to someone who is endangering you, I promise, but you are going to have to trust me.”

Sam didn’t budge. The officer looked from Sam to Dean and back again. Her expression was tough as nails, but there was a softness to her eyes, a confidence, and for no reason Dean could put his finger on, he felt comforted by that expression – _maybe she’s a beta_ – and he wanted to believe her, wanted to trust her.

“S’okay, Sammy,” Dean said. “I think...maybe she’s telling the truth.”

“I won’t let you take Dean back home,” said Sam with all the impossible defiance an eleven year old could muster.

“Where’d you like me to take him?” she asked kindly, gentleness spreading over her face.

“The hospital,” Sam announced. “He has been throwing up constantly for, like, months. He needs help.” As he spoke, Sam relaxed his defensive stance, and the officer brushed by him to come to stand in front of Dean. A moment later, she dropped to her knees in front of him without any apparent care for the mess of oily run off on the road shoulder that instantly stained her pants.

“Is that true, Dean?” she asked. She reached a hand towards him, and when he couldn’t muster the energy to shy away, she set a hand gently on Dean’s cheek, encouraged him to keep meeting her earnest expression. Her gloved fingers traced lightly over the hollows in his cheeks, her eyes quickly raked over him, and whatever she saw made her eyes tighten with concern.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, ashamed of the confession. “Not the hospital – don’t wanna see a doctor, no doctors – but, um, yeah...I’ve been...sick...kinda sick...”

“Cause of your dad?” she asked.

_No, because of me, because I was born busted, because I was supposed to be an alpha and I’m not and that’s all my dad has ever wanted for me, because he’s given up so much to raise Sammy and I and why shouldn’t he want a son he can be proud of? Because..._

_...No! There was nothing wrong with me until he let Dr. Alastair dose me with all this shit! Why wasn’t the way I was good enough? Why isn’t the way Sam is good enough?_

“I don’t think he meant for me to...be like this...” Dean had no idea if he meant his illness or his rut or his induced alphahood or what he’d long ago come to suspect was his biological, inborn omegahood, long since repressed by hormone treatments. The words were true regardless. How Dean was, mind and body, bore no resemblance to what John Winchester had expected from him.

“Okay, then,” she leaned forward and, without asking his permission, latched an arm around each of his thighs. Dean squawked in protest but was too weak to resist as she lifted him up with depressing ease in a reverse-piggy bag, his legs straddling her thin stomach, his chest leaning against hers, his head leaning on her shoulder. Even the firmness of her breasts against his body couldn’t rouse any interest in him. It felt nice, and this close he could pick up her scent, calming, lavender and aloe like the lotion his mother used to use on her hands. She was definitely a beta. Her body was warm, the arms holding him up supportive and strong, her voice kind and nonjudgmental. In so many ways, she evoked memories of his long-dead mother. God, he was _tired_. “What’s your name?”

_Mom would never have let this happen to us. She would have protected us. She would have told dad we were fine just the way we were born._

“Dean…Campbell,” he improvised tiredly, latching on to his mother’s maiden name as memories of her continued to stir. _Can’t let dad find Sammy, can’t let dad find me_. _This is nice. She’s nice._ Dean allowed himself the luxury of melting against her body.

“How old are you Dean?”

“16,” he lied. There was no state in which being 15 was old enough to do jack shit, but he’d heard that some places, sixteen year olds counted as adults. If he was really lucky, South Dakota was one such place. “It’s my birthday today.” Another lie. God, he’d told so many lies over the past few years, _I’m okay, I feel fine, nothing is wrong, this is what I want_ , every one wearing him down, every one repeated so often that some days he wondered what the truth was, if there even _was_ any truth. Maybe it was all a lie, maybe Dean Winchester was one enormous, all-encompassing, endless lie. This lie didn’t burn and hurt as his past ones had, though. For once, he lied and felt liberated instead of trapped. For once, he lied for his _own_ sake, not to hide how damaged he was, not to protect his father.

“Happy birthday,” she murmured warmly. “It’s gonna be okay, Dean. You’re safe now. You and your brother, you’re both safe now.”

He was asleep before she settled him into the backseat of her patrol car.


	2. September, 2012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Long time, no update! Thanks for your patience; as I warned, I'll be working on this as time allows in between working on other stuff, but I promise it is NOT abandoned and I will keep getting new chapters up. :)
> 
> Warning: I don’t know anything about the Urbana-Champaign campus and I’m not bothering to learn anything for this story. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Note that I changed the story description a little – if you read the original, it indicates that Dean was a loner and quiet at Abnormal meetings; for plot reasons I decided to change that. :)

**Chapter 2**

**September 12 th, 2012**

“Welcome, incoming students! My name is Charlie Bradbury, and I’m the president of the University of Illinois’ chapter of Abnormal! Before I continue – how many of you were looking for the Christian Alpha Youth Assembly?” A couple of sheepish hands went up. “It’s in the Main Quad. This is the South Quad. You want to go over that way – Dean, would you show them the way?” The red-headed woman didn’t turn to look at the line of men and women standing beside her as she named one. A good looking man smiled, nodded, stepped on to the path and waited patiently; his short brown hair was spiked, tips dyed black, and he was casually dressed in beat up jeans and a t-shirt that said “Fuck You” in bold white letters. The few students who’d suggested they needed directions all cowered obviously and didn’t budge. Jimmy snorted under his breath. Despite the aggressiveness of the man’s appearance – a tattoo, unrecognizable with distance, snaked around Dean’s arm and he had a whole slew of piercings, not to mention that offensive shirt – Dean reminded Jimmy of nothing so much as a hedgehog, all spines on the outside, but his soft side showed in the gentle smile and the way he gestured emphatically for the students to come, not the least hint of impatience in his eyes.

“Don’t be shy,” Charlie continued, her eyes glittering bright green in the sunlight. Jimmy didn’t think he’d ever seen someone whose eyes were that bright. He rarely noticed anyone’s eye color at all, except Cassie’s gorgeous blue. A silly quaver in his chest, Jimmy glanced to his side to make sure his twin was still standing there, as if Cassie would go anywhere. Cassie broke into a kind grin, and covertly took Jimmy’s hand, gave it a squeeze, and dropped it again. “He doesn’t bite unless you really want him to.” That brought a loud guffaw and an agreeing nod from a tall, square man also standing in the line of those Jimmy assumed must be club officers, flanking Charlie on the grass of the quad. Many of the other upperclassmen in attendance also laughed but the freshmen tittered uncertainly. “If you stay, you should know my next topic of conversation is unusual alpha/beta/omega presentation and the unfairness of a trichotomy that demonstratively excludes a large minority of people around the world with an emphasis on the normative nature of organized politics and religion. So, if that’s going to make you Christian Alpha Youth uncomfortable, you should probably go with Dean.” A number of students shifted from the crowd, more than had raised their hands, making their way to where Dean was stamping his foot with an obviously false show of annoyance and an over-done grimace, a look which made the rings through his lip look a little demonic. One who’d raised their hand glanced at Dean and the others, glanced back at Charlie, and with a profoundly defiant look, stayed in place.

“That’s the spirit,” said Charlie encouragingly. The student, a lanky youth in a brightly striped red and white fast food uniform flushed from neck line to the roots of his brown hair.

“Alright. So. As I was saying,” Charlie said, surveying the group of students who remained. There were nearly 100 in all, more than Jimmy had expected to see; the majority looked like freshmen. “Wow, we have one hell of a turnout today! That’s awesome! I hope you all decide to keep coming – we meet as a whole group once a month in the...” A older man, presumably the group’s faculty advisor, coughed loudly. “Right, I’m getting ahead of myself. Welcome to Abnormal. Don’t worry, I’m not actually going to talk about that dry stuff today, though if it interests you I suggest you take Professor Shurley’s classes on the history of presentation.” The faculty advisor smiled shyly at the crowd and ducked his head. “In case any of you are still in the wrong place, Abnormal is the national organization for trans-presenters, multi-presenters, non-presenters, shifting presenters, and others who, however they’ve chosen to define themselves, do not fit into the supposedly universal categories of alpha, beta and omega. Cis-presenting supporters are always welcome, as well! Sure, it’s a little weird to call ourselves ‘abnormal,’ I mean, we live with this every day, so we know it’s perfectly normal, right?” She paused for an appreciative laugh that Jimmy entered in to whole-heartedly. Cassie and he had spent the last four years being told how bizarre they were by doctors from all over the world, because they had presented differently, because Cassie had a knot but still made slick, because Jimmy had heats but had a non-functioning knot, because they were the only male pair of twins to present differently in the past century, because they were the only living pair of identical twins to present differently who had shown as alpha and omega. Apparently, there were things that counted as “normal” even among the most “abnormal” outliers, and one was that usually when twins presented differently, one was _always_ a sterile beta. Except for Jimmy and Cas.

“But for most of history, we’ve been the freaks, the weirdos, the cursed. We were burned as witches in Europe during the Middle Ages, we were abandoned to die in the mountains in China, we were exoticisized and worshiped by some tribes in the Americas. In the 19th century, when the craze to classify and define hit the Victorians, we were reduced to a single word – abnormal – and tens of thousands were ‘fixed’ with punishing treatments or sterilized to ensure they would never reproduce their abnormality. Some cultures treated us well, some treated us badly, but there was one thing they all had in common: _no one_ treated us as normal.” There was fiery passion and a burning gleam in Charlie’s eyes as she found her flow and concluded that last sentence, and a burst of applause ran through the upperclassmen and spread among the more hesitant freshmen. Jimmy clapped enthusiastically; Cassie stood at his side silent and uncertain. Jimmy felt a twinge of guilt. Cassie hadn’t wanted to come to this meeting. They’d gotten so much attention over the course of their lives, from doctors, from media, from religious nutjobs, that Cassie had hoped that when they came to college they could quietly disappear into the background, they could mate like they’d always discuss and never go home and never talk to another damn medical professional or researcher for the rest of their lives. That hope had already fallen flat; one of their professors had recognized them and after their last class, a man who introduced himself as Doctor Crowley had met them at the door asked far too many personal questions even though they’d refused to give an answer to any of them.

Jimmy appreciated that Cassie wanted a quiet life, but nonetheless he’d convinced his brother to attend the meeting. As Jimmy pointed out, they’d been treated as different and weird their whole lives. Wouldn’t it be nice to join a group where they were, well, normal? It was at least worth a try.

“It’s estimated that, of the 320 million people in the United States right now, at least 1.6 million meet the 19th century standard for ‘abnormality,’ ” explained Charlie. “Worldwide, there are 36.5 million of us – and that’s almost certainly a low estimate, because so many never step forward to say ‘I presented this way but I know in my heart and my mind that what my body does is not who I _am_.’ So many doubt themselves, so many take hormones to ‘treat’ themselves and normalize their biology, so many pretend to fit in.” Every time she said words like ‘normal’ or ‘abnormal,’ Charlie used her fingers to make air quotes, in case there was any doubt that she found the terms problematic.

“So, how does it work? Well, as I said, I’m Charlie Bradbury, I’m a senior double-majoring in Computer Science and Biostatistics with a minor in History. Basically, I’m interested in the intersection between biology and history and how I can use computers to show that we’re not nearly so uncommon in the past or the present as the ‘Establishment’ would have us think. And, I’m happy to share, I’m a trans-presenter, omega to alpha. _Do not assume others in Abnormal want to share_. It’s one of our only hard and fast rules – don’t ask. Don’t push. If you want to share, you’re welcome to do so, but it’s up to each of us to choose whether or not to open up about why we’re in the group. Also, _do not assume anything about another member’s presentation based on their scent or which small groups they choose to attend_. On our campus, Abnormal has an active membership of 162 people, most of whom opt to attend our small groups instead of these larger meetings. As I was saying before, our entire membership is invited to a monthly meeting – this month’s is on September 29 th – held at the student union. We share news, discuss issues, debate if we want, and eat a lot of pizza. The rest of the time, we are organized into small groups based on our specific areas of interest. You are welcome to attend as many or as few small groups as you’d like, and you may choose which to attend regardless of your personal presentation identification. Thus, just because someone is _in_ a small group, does not mean they identify as a member of that small group. Some do, but some are friends or family members of such people, some are merely interested and curious – and regardless, it’s _none of your business_. All we ask is that you be courteous and respectful regardless and do not speak over others who may have different experience than you.”

She paused.

“Oh, and if any of you are here to be an asshole? You should know we have a _very_ good relationship with Campus Security – we give them all of our left over pizza – and if you act up or do anything aggressive towards another member of the group, you will be forcibly asked to leave. And possibly tazed. The last person who picked a fight in a small group meeting was tazed.”

Several harrumphs greeted this announcement, and someone standing near Jimmy muttered, “fucking abnormal assholes.” Jimmy looked across nearby faces but couldn’t figure out who it was, which was good for their sake. He’d taken a year of their high school’s boxing program and was not afraid to throw a punch when it was so amply earned.

“The people behind me are currently in charge of our small groups.” As she spoke, Dean returned from across the quad at a jog and took up his place in line, huffing and puffing and running a hand over his sweaty brow. The tall, scruffy man who’d laughed loudest when Charlie joked about Dean biting grinned, lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder, asked him something softly, and Dean nodded. “After I finish this speech, we’ll be having a meet and greet and you will have a chance to sign up for group meetings. We’ll distribute our meeting schedules for the year, you can join our mailing list, or you can just grab some pamphlets and stand around quietly, it’s up to you.”

“Let me introduce my officers. Good timing, Dean.” With a red-faced grin, Dean stepped forward. With his cheeks flushed, a wash of freckles became visible even from across the field, and he had piercings all over his face – several in each ear lobe, a gauge piercing in the upper cartilage on his right, three rings through his lip, a septum piercing through his nose. The tattoo on his arm proved to be a chain in thick links that wound down from beneath his left sleeve, curled around his elbow, and ended in a thick tattooed cuff encircling his wrist and bearing an elaborate shattered lock over the entire back of his hand.

“Dean Campbell,” he said in a deep voice made gruff by his exertion. “Junior in the School of Social Work. I lead the multi-presenter small group.” He stepped back into his place in line.

“Succinct as always,” said Charlie lightly. “If any of you are thinking of joining that group – you should. It’s our smallest, and we’d love to see it grow. Benny?”

The broad man standing beside Dean scratched at his stubble and stepped forward. “Benny Lafitte, I run the alpha-to-beta trans group.”

They proceeded down the line – there was a group leader for every type of trans-presenter, with Charlie herself in charge of the omega-to-alpha group. There was also a group for non-presenters, a cis-supporter group led by a cheerful young woman who exchanged such beaming looks with Charlie that it was impossible to mistake the nature of their relationship, and a timid senior led the group for those who weren’t sure and wanted a place to talk about it. When they were done, Charlie added, “We don’t currently have a group for those of shifting presentation – since usually that happens later in life – but if that’s something that interests you, _definitely_ let us know, we’d love to form one! So...I think that’s everything. Break?” She glanced back at the group with her and received a range of shrugs and nods, and then looked back to the crowd and nodded more decisively. “Break!”

The officers took a moment talking to each other and then split and mingled with the crowd. A few people pushed forward eagerly and instantly engaged this or that person in conversation. Those who weren’t immediately caught went to a table that had been set up to one side. Professor Shurley stayed there while others grabbed materials and began to circulate. Jimmy and Cassie hung back, letting the hubbub surround them.

“What do you think?” asked Cassie.

“You know _exactly_ what I think,” Jimmy replied dryly. Cassie flushed. “Look, bro, I still think this is a good place for us. Sure, this is just a college group, but the national organization has access to lawyers and doctors and all kinds of supporters and money and shit. You know I’m with you – I’m not going home, and I’m not letting a single other damn person scan us, poke us, or mess with us. I’m sure as fuck not letting anyone else do anything to you. But we don’t have any money and we don’t have contacts. I haven’t got a clue how to find a lawyer to help us, do you?” Cassie shook his head, biting his lip. “Can we do better than having Abnormal support us? If we’re active members, we’ll have some place to go when shit hits the fan. And you _know_ shit is going to hit the fan.”

“When mom finds out we’re not coming back for Christmas...”

“Yeah.”

“Alright,” Cassie took a deep breath and stared at the grass. “Alright. You’re right, I know you are.” When he looked up, there was a familiar fire in his eyes, the bravery that his diffidence often hid, the determination that was one of the things that Jimmy loved about his brother. Cassie might behave meek and compliant, but he had more backbone than he appeared to. He had more backbone than Jimmy did.

“Hey, uh, ‘scuse me?” a gruff low voice caught their attention, and there stood Dean Campbell. He was good looking, much more so up close, a perfect representation of that transition between thin teen and filled-out adult, his shoulders broad and strong in sharp contrast to his narrow waist. That wasn’t what prompted Jimmy to stare, though. This close, even amidst the crowd, Jimmy could pick out Dean’s scent, and it was amazing – rich chocolate and whole milk and vanilla and something more Jimmy couldn’t put his finger on.

“Hot cocoa,” muttered Cassie in an undertone. Jimmy nodded slowly. That was it exactly, he smelled like a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows, steaming on a cold winter’s day. It was _amazing_ , easily the best person Jimmy had ever smelled save Cassie.

“Sorry to bother you,” Dean continued, undeterred by their matched bemused expressions. He held up a clipboard and a pen. “Want to join the mailing list?”

“Sure,” Jimmy barely managed not to stammer, taking another deep breath of that smell. If Dean was equally affected by their aroma, he gave little sign of it. He was still flushed and sweaty from his run and judging by the way his eyes darted left and right, he was much less comfortable among the crowd than he’d been standing before it. Jimmy took the pen and hastily filled in his name and e-mail address, skipping his phone number. Their parents closely monitored their cell phone usage. Until they could get their own phones, they couldn’t let anyone contact them that way. “I’m Jimmy, this is my brother Cassie.”

“Castiel,” corrected Cassie calmly, taking the pen next. “You run the multi-presenter group?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. A dangling earring on his left of...yeah, that was an erect penis...danced and brushed his neck.

“That’s probably the one we’ll join, right, Jimmy?” Cassie continued. Jimmy nodded. “When’s it next meet?”

“Really?” Dean perked up, taking back the pen as Cassie finished up. For the first time, he really looked at them. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared around his thick bar piercing, and he licked his lips. Oh, yeah, Dean had noticed. “That’s awesome. We’ve only got like five people right now. We mostly end up playing board games ‘cause we haven’t got anything to talk about – we’ve been together for two years so we’ve kinda said what we needed to say, ya know? It’s Wednesday nights at 8 PM in room B-114 of the Student Union. There’s a fooz ball table down there, too.”

“Are you meeting tonight?” Jimmy asked.

“Naw, starting next week,” said Dean. “Hey, I gotta...do this...” He gestured at the clipboard. “But if you wanna talk when I’m done, I’ll be standing over there.” He pointed at the table where Shurley was giving out pamphlets to an Asian boy and girl, obviously a couple, his arm around her shoulder as they listened and nodded. “Nice to meet you, Jimmy, Cas.”

He walked on, approaching a group of young women who appeared confused why they were there and who all declined to sign Dean’s clipboard, eying his t-shirt and piercings with grimaces.

“Definitely hot cocoa,” Jimmy said, staring at Dean’s back. The play of muscles was clear even through the cotton of his shirt. For the first time in his life, Jimmy looked at someone who wasn’t Cassie and found himself growing slick.

“Yeah,” Cassie nodded. “I love hot cocoa.”

“Me too.”

The Asian boy and girl moved away from the pamphlet table and Professor Shurley straightened out his papers and looked up to scan the crowd. For a moment, his eyes met Jimmy’s, and Jimmy could swear the mousy-looking man started, but then a breeze kicked up and the papers on the table began to flap and blow and pamphlets scattered over the quad.

“Come on,” said Cassie, immediately jogging over to help. Less sure he wanted to meet the faculty advisor, Jimmy followed in Cassie’s wake and joined several others making an effort to prevent the documents from littering the otherwise clear field. A young man – certainly too young to be in college, Jimmy thought, eying his still-boyish features and too-short pants as if he’d just had a growth spurt – carefully tried to catch the pages without damaging the glossy color print outs. When they’d finally gathered them all, they returned to the table and helped rearrange everything and use some obliging rocks to weigh the stacks down. Shurley pointedly didn’t look at Jimmy or Cassie, and Jimmy’s suspicion grow.

“Hey,” the boy interrupted Jimmy’s train of thought, holding out a hand, his voice light and casual. “Are you two really, like, identical twins?”

“Yeah,” Jimmy smiled despite himself – the boy’s enthusiasm was contagious – and took the offered hand. “Jimmy, and my brother is Castiel.” The Professor flinched. “Ask your Professor about us sometimes,” he added dryly, “I think he knows all about it.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Professor Shurley. “I didn’t mean to…I mean…this is my area of study, and you’re in the press a lot, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”

“Huh?” the boy looked from Professor Shurley, who was staring at the spread of literature as if it held the meaning of life, to Jimmy, who was looking a fiery challenge at Shurley’s forehead, to Cassie, who was rearranging the piles on the table for the third time, cheeks pinked lightly. No one offered an explanation, so he continued, “I’m Sam Campbell, and he’s not my professor, I’m in high school. I’m an intern!” He said it as proudly as most boys would have announced they’d been made captain of the football team.

“Are you related to Dean?” asked Cassie quietly, happily grasping the opportunity to change the topic.

“He’s my brother,” said Sam, grinning. “Don’t let the shirt and the…” Sam trailed off and made a gesture towards his face and arm, indicating vaguely the places where Dean had his piercings and tattoo. “…put you off. He always dresses that way when the freshmen show up. It’s kind of a test? Like ‘how many people can I offend?’ It’s stupid, I’ve tried telling him not to, but, well, that’s just how he is.” Shurley kept glancing up, only to lower his eyes again each time he realized Jimmy was still staring daggers at him.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Cassie said.

Sam beamed. “He’s the best.”

“Are you thinking about going to the multi-presenters group?” Shurley managed, finally timidly meeting Jimmy’s gaze. “Not that it’s any of my business,” he added, looking away again.

“Yes, we are,” said Jimmy. “It’s sort of your business, you are the faculty advisor.”

“Right,” Shurley hunched his shoulders. “I meant it’s not my business…what you are…I mean…it’s no one’s business.”

“It’s alright, professor,” Cassie said. “Everyone knows.”

“I don’t know,” chirped Sam.

“Yeah, you do,” said Shurley, sounding miserable about the revelation.

“Our last name is Novak,” supplied Jimmy, figuring it was inevitable. It had been naïve to think that there would be anyone in a group like Abnormal who wasn’t well enough informed to have heard of the Novak twins. Sure enough—

“Oh,” said Sam, eyes going saucer-wide. The boy had an adorably expressive face. “Oh!” Cassie flushed and stepped nearer to Jimmy. He longed to put a reassuring arm over his brother’s shoulders, to hold him close and protect him from their public image. Cassie hated that people recognized him, recognized them.

“It’s over now,” said Jimmy. “We turned 18 last month and told our parent we weren’t going to any more doctors or doing any more appearances.”

“That’s awesome,” Sam’s enthusiasm was so genuine that it was impossible for Jimmy to hold on to his thread of anger. He wasn’t angry at Sam or even at Professor Shurley. It wasn’t _their_ fault that the Novak twins were famous. He was angry at his doctors, for not being able to keep their mouths shut, and their parents, for being willing to let them be used as figureheads for a movement that before Cassie and Jimmy presented, they never would have approved of. He was angry that all the people who should have protected them had instead used them and profited of them, and he was angry that he hadn’t been able to protect Cassie.

Leafing through papers with purpose for the first time since they’d met him, Professor Shurley pulled out a thick booklet and held it out, meeting Jimmy’s eyes with confidence and a spark of determination. The booklet was entitled, “Abnormal and You, Issue 4: Legal Aid and Support.” The remnant of Jimmy’s irritation melted away. He met Shurley’s firm look with a smile.

“We’re here to help,” Shurley said sincerely. “I hope you’ll keep coming to our meetings. My office is in Lincoln Hall, room 4012. My regular office hours are posted on my faculty webpage, but I’m there all the time except when I’m teaching or doing things for Abnormal, because I have no life. Feel free to stop by. I can help with getting aid from our parent organization or if you need help navigating school issues without your parents getting involved – for example, if you don’t want to go home for the holidays, you can only stay in the dorms over Thanksgiving and Christmas if you have permission from a faculty member, that kind of thing. I’m not just the faculty advisor for the Urbana-Champaign group, I’m also the founding sponsor for this chapter and I’m the regional coordinator for non-presenters in the North-Midwest region. So, yeah, here to help – you’re not in this alone anymore, boys.”

Jimmy tilted the booklet so that Cassie could read the cover and his brother colored further. “Thank you,” Cassie murmured. “I’m glad we came today.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Cassie,” Jimmy said warmly, meaning so much more than the issues that Shurley was alluding to. “We’re gonna be okay.” Cassie looked up and gave Jimmy his most dazzling smile, the smell of lemon and cream burgeoned, and Jimmy felt that familiar swell of love for his brother. He’d done his best over the years to shelter Cassie from the limelight, but there’d only been so much he could do alone, a youth himself. Now, they had options and allies, and Jimmy found himself calculating how many days it had been since his last heat. While they’d been living at home, their parents had forbidden Jimmy from taking heat suppressants, had forbidden Cassie from taking the alpha birth control pills that seconded as rut suppressants. Only an obliging school nurse who covertly supplied Jimmy with morning after pills had prevented disaster, and only a couple of their nicer doctors quietly never mentioning to Jimmy’s parents that they’d found the medication in his system had kept it from blowing up in their faces. They’d already been to campus andrology and gynecology and gotten a supply of the pills each of them needed. Cassie started taking his immediately, but Jimmy was waiting one more heat. His last heat had been in June, days before graduation. Any day now, Jimmy’s hormones would crest and he’d go into heat, and they’d finally, finally share what they’d truly wanted all along. They’d waited 4 years to mate.

Any day now, he and Cassie could become husbands. Even if they could never tell anyone, they’d know. Even if they could never tell anyone, they’d be together for the rest of their lives.

* * *

**September 19 th, 2012**

“Right, anyone actually have anything to say, or can we get right to the beer and board games?” Dean grinned, looking out at the group assembled for the first multi-presenter session of the year. At moments like this, he couldn’t believe he’d let Charlie bully him into being in charge of, well, anything. _You’re the only open multi-presenter on campus_ , she’d said, _if you don’t do it, who will?_ Total bullshit, of course. Not all of the small group representatives actually _were_ what their group represented. Yet, somehow, despite his protests, he’d ended up first agreeing to go to the meetings, then had ended up leading them, and by the start of the previous school year she’d been introducing him as the coordinator and there wasn’t any way out of it any more.

“Dean,” hissed Charlie, “you can’t offer them beer, they’re not 21.”

The newcomers, all four of them, watched the exchange with equally blank, bemused looks. Dean was simultaneously pleased and utterly distracted that the good looking twins had kept to their word and shown up to his meeting. Not only were they gorgeous – dark-haired, pale skinned, slim, with stunning blue eyes – but they smelled like a damn bakery – fresh meringue and citrus and pie crust. The only difference between them was that Jimmy’s bold eyes and confident stride were matched with a subtle difference in scent that fricken _effervesced_ in Dean’s nose, which seriously should _not_ be possible, whereas diffident Castiel had a hint of spice, a tang of cinnamon that should be incongruous mixed in with the other smells and yet _worked_ and fit as if it belonged. In comparison, the other two could not hold Dean’s attention, a slim, black-haired Asian boy and his round-faced, darker skinned girlfriend. He couldn’t place the twins’ presentation types by smell, but the boy and girl both definitely betas – at least, that was what their biology dictated. As he’d come to understand profoundly, biology said little about who a person actually _was_.

“Neither am I,” shrugged Dean. “Not til January.” _Not til next year, November. Fuck, when did I get used to thinking of January 24 th as my birthday?_ “Doesn’t stop me.” To emphasize the point, he grabbed one of the cans, popped it open and took a sip. It tasted like fricken piss water. Trust Charlie to get the cheapest, crappiest beer on the market, knowing she’d be sharing with people who were underage and wouldn’t drinking any herself. It was a fucking shame that Benny couldn’t make the meeting this week, he could be counted on to bring the good stuff.

“Dean,” Charlie repeated warningly.

“Fine, fine. So, this is the multi-presenters group. My name is Dean Campbell and I’m the group coordinator, and yes, I’m an actual, honest to god multi-presenter. We really do exist. I am not a unicorn.” He gave a suggestive grin; he did after all have a prominent horn. A show of confidence went a long way to keep anyone from asking questions he couldn’t handle answering. Charlie rolled her eyes and gave him a disgusted look. Castiel – what the hell kind of name was that, anyway? – _Cas_ blushed. Aw man, those twins were fucking adorable. “In case you’re curious, I’m an alpha with prominent omega sub-traits. Y’all don’t have to share unless you want to, it’s entirely up to you. We meet once a week on Wednesday and there’s always pizza and, um, sparkling apple cider.” He tapped the beer bottle with a conspiratorial wink at the freshmen. Jimmy grinned, the two Asians exchanged uncertain looks, and Charlie exploded with an over-dramatic, long-suffering sigh. “If this year goes like the last two, we’ll get a few new people at the start before you realize we’re not actually interesting. After a few months, maybe one or two of you will stick around and we’ll have said everything worth saying and we’ll resort to playing cards. So if you’ve got any favorite games, seriously, bring them, ‘cause I am so fricken sick of playing Cards Against Humanity, you have no idea.”

“Preach, brother,” Ash grinned and held up the PBR he had brought. Much to everyone’s relief, he never offered to share.

“Introductions?” Dean looked a question at Charlie, who nodded. “Right – let’s go around.”

“Charlie Bradbury, chapter president,” she smiled winningly at the new attendees and waved. “Don’t let Dean’s attempts to scare you off work, this is a great small group and I hope you’ll continue to attend.”

“Ash,” Ash offered no further name. Dean wouldn’t either if his full name was William Ashley Jameson III.

Before Jo could chime in, the door opened and a shame faced kid – okay, he _must_ be a freshman, but he looked so damn _young_ – came into the room, toying with a hat and wearing an unbuttoned Weiner Hut uniform. All eyes turned to him, and he flushed magenta. “Uh, sorry I’m late,” he mumbled. “I get off work at 8, so this is the earliest I can…I mean…is that alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, grab some pizza unless you’re already stuffed with weiners and make yourself at home,” said Dean. Poor kid even smelled like hot dogs. The whole room suddenly reeked of them. Dean felt a stab of disappointment; he could no longer make out the aroma of pie.

“Jo Harvelle,” Jo said, sweeping her blonde hair away from her face.

“Uh, am I next?” the Asian boy looked around. The chairs were arranged haphazardly, the core group that always came sat around a table, the others sat in the semblance of a row nearby. Dean gave the boy an encouraging wave, and he quailed. It was all Dean could do not to laugh. He wasn’t _that_ intimidating. “Kevin Tran,” the boy said in a rush. “Freshman, from Chicago.”

“Channing Ngo,” said the round-faced girl.

“I’m Jimmy,” said the twin with easy confidence. Cas seemed to be folding into his chair, but he was spared having to introduce himself when Jimmy continued, “this is my brother, Castiel.”

Their introductions brought stares from nearly everyone else in the room, and Dean blinked, baffled. Charlie was staring with her mouth wide open until Jo reached over to close it, Ash shook his head and chugged his PBR, and Kevin managed to look even _more_ intimidated. Channing’s look of hungry curiosity was the strangest, and was the one that Jimmy acknowledged. Those beautiful blue eyes went cold as eyes, and he stared down the dark-haired girl until she had the good manners to look away.

 _Novak_. There was something familiar about the last name that Jimmy had written on the mailing list, but Dean hadn’t been able to place it. Apparently, whatever Dean couldn’t remember, everyone else could. It must be something big. Sam would know, Dean would have to ask him.

The moment stretched out.

“Okay then,” Dean said. “Nice to see you here, Jimmy, Cas.” All eyes turned towards him. The grateful look Cas gave him made up for the intentness with which everyone focused on him. “Weiner hut?”

“Alfie,” the boy supplied. “Um, should I say what...what I am?”

“It’s entirely up to you,” said Charlie, visibly shaking off her startlement, smiling gently.

“No, I don’t mind,” Alfie said. “I’d be more comfortable just having it...out there. I’m 19 but I haven’t presented yet.”

Alfie’s admission opened the door to the others speaking, and Dean was relieved that without his having to do anything, the group fell easily into a comfortable conversation. Settling into his chair, he took another sip of the crappy bear and let it all wash around him. He hadn’t been feeling great all day, a little feverish, a little nauseous. Feeling sick to his stomach brought back far too many unpleasant memories, stirred too many fears. Even after he’d gotten away from home, it had been a long time before he felt healthy, a long time before he felt even a little comfortable in his own skin. These meetings helped. The friends he’d made in Abnormal helped. When Sam had told him about the group two years ago, Dean had been dead set against it. _What does that have to do with me? I’m not like all those spoiled middle class assholes looking for something to make them special, ready to think they’re something they’re not. I’m fucked up._ In retrospect, he was ashamed to have said that to Sam, ashamed for what he hadn’t said – _I’m broken_. Though he’d spent 2 months in Dr. Moseley’s clinic, though he’d spent two years with Sheriff Mills and her husband Singer, he’d been so very far from feeling functional. All he’d wanted was to get away, to protect Sammy from the two weird betas who were determined to take on the role of parents for him and his brother. Now, he actually looked forward to going back to Sioux Falls – looked forward to going _home_ – and he expected to work for Dr. Moseley when he finished school.

Pushing the thoughts away, he listened attentively as Ash talk about his utterly fucked biology, repressed a grin at the startled looks Ash got from the freshmen. Ash had been born a woman but identified as a man; lucky to have supportive parents, he’d gotten on hormones early, so early they’d screwed up his presentation, and the result was that he was a beta who got heats and probably wasn’t sterile. It would be tragic except that Ash always told the story as if it was a fricken Marx Brothers movie, complete with slapstick and mistaken identity and a healthy dose of good humor. Dean wished he could talk about his own medical disasters with half so much good humor and levity. Jimmy laughed uproariously when Ash got to the part about his top surgery, and Cas hid a smile behind his hand. Kevin and Channing both looked a little horrified, and Dean suspected he’d never see them again, which was fine. He had no idea what they were doing at the anyway.

“ _...but what’s the ferret here for?_ ” Charlie and Jo echoed Ash simultaneously as he reached the end of the story, Jo laughing so hard she snorted beer. There was a moment of stunned silence, then Jimmy’s laughter filled the room, Cas’ only a little softer, Alfie laughing then covering his mouth as if unsure if he was allowed to, and even Channing and Kevin giggled.

Dean felt the last tension he’d felt for the new year fall away. They were going to be _fine_.

Taking a sip of his beer, he caught a whiff of pie and was surprised at the heat that pooled in his gut. Little aroused Dean, a side effect of all the treatments and an inevitable consequence of opting for the least intrusive drug regimen that left him functional. After what Alastair did to him, it was impossible for him to be on no medications at all; if he quit cold, his body would reject the grafted knot and he’d get sick. Or, as Dr. Moseley had explained it succinctly when teenage Dean had determinedly argued that he was never putting any more of that shit in his body again, _boy, your cock’ll rot off._ Not quite accurate, but very effective at convincing him. Dr. Moseley had gotten Dean down to only two pills a day, and though they caused him headaches, muscle pain and insomnia, they left him more functional than not the majority of the time. Though four years had passed, he was still grateful every day he didn’t wake up puking his guts out.

A suspicious itch at the back of Dean’s neck made him nervous, reminded him of the hunted feeling that had scarcely faded with the years. _Impossible, John won’t find me here. He won’t._ Confused, Dean looked around. Alfie and Kevin were talking hesitantly to each other, Charlie and Jo were flirting mercilessly, Ash was dealing out yet another damn game of cards – Fluxx, tonight, to ease the newbies in. The twins...the twins were looking at him. Quirking his eyebrows, he met the gaze and got a shrug and a smirk from Jimmy; Cas averted his eyes, buried his face in Jimmy’s neck in a surprisingly intimate gesture. The smell of meringue and butter and lemon thickened in the air until Dean was shocked to feel a stirring in his pants. Covering a blush by rising abruptly, he moved over to the table.

“Alright, then, freshies, grab your chairs and sit around the table, time for you to learn the easiest game on the planet.”

 _I want to get to know them better_.

_No. I can’t let them get that close. I can’t let anyone get that close._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...sorry, this chapter is mostly table setting (which is a lot of why it's taken me so long to get out! No particularly fun bits!) - stuff'll pick up next chapter. Or at least, there'll be smut. :)


	3. September, 2012

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today, I sat down and outlined the rest of this story, taking all the stuff in my head and actually getting it on paper. Based on that, I can tentatively say this story is going to be around 17 chapters, and I expect it'll be around 150,000 words (with the reminder that I notoriously stink at estimating my word counts and usually under guess).
> 
> As a reminder, I will not be updating this on a regular schedule, but instead will be working on it around working on other stuff. However, I'll try not to let it be six weeks between updates again, like it was between Chapter 1 and Chapter 2. :)
> 
> NOTE: I have added some tags, and will be adding some more, including more Bad. Please especially be aware of the addition of the *Self Harm Tag* - this is actually *past* self harm, there will not be current self harm unless my outline changes, but there will be discussion of past self harm (specifically cutting) and coping mechanisms for such. This tag DOES pertain to this chapter!

**Chapter 3: September, 2012**

**September 22 st, 2012**

Sharing a dorm room with Cassie was the best thing that had ever happened to Jimmy. Their parents had objected, had stood over their shoulders as they filled out their freshmen intake paperwork and required that they request different dorm buildings. Lilith and Marv hadn’t counted on Cassie and Jimmy sneaking downstairs later that night, unsealing the envelopes and changing their answers. When they’d received their room assignment during orientation, the Novaks had been furious but, conveniently, had blamed the college. Resolving to write irritated letters to the provost, the president, and anyone else they could think of, they had begrudgingly helped the boys move into their new dorm. The hardest part for Jimmy and Cassie had been hiding their elation. No, that had been the second hardest part. The hardest part had been making sure they didn’t leave any visible hickeys now that they finally, finally had a room just the two of them and the entire night to enjoy it. At breakfast the morning after, their parents had no idea that Cassie and Jimmy were holding hands under the table.

A knock on the door pulled Jimmy from his reverie. His insides were a mess of heat, anticipation, and feverish excitement that he could scarce concentrate – dangerous, considering he was holding a lit candle.

“Coming!”

Hand trembling, he finished what he was doing, placed the taper back in the candlestick, and hurried to the door. The pizza delivery woman thrust the box at him immediately.

“Twelve fifty,” she said indifferently. Jimmy pulled out a twenty.

“Keep the change,” he said. She blinked at him as he took the box and closed the door in her face. He had too much to get ready before Cassie got back from class to worry about either politeness or $7.50. Setting the pie down on his desk, he hastily finished setting the table. It was a haphazard arrangement – a folding card table borrowed from their RA, the standard dorm-issue chunky computer chairs pulled up to it, smuggled in candles, dishes and silverware he’d borrowed from the dining hall, and delivery of a large white pizza with olives and feta – Cassie’s favorite toppings – on a pizza from the only local place they’d tried so far. It wasn’t much. They didn’t have much. But it was something. Jimmy wanted the evening to be special for Cassie. This was, after all, their wedding night.

_God, I hope he still wants to mate. We haven’t talked about it since before we got to school. We’ve been here a month, and met so many new people. Things change. As long as he’s happy, then it’s all good. Cassie comes first. He’s never left my side, we’ve shared a bed every night since we arrived. He must still want this – must still want me. It’s not just that we were so secluded, so sheltered growing up. Stop worrying._

A vision of Dean Campbell flashed through his mind, handsome and standoffish but gentle, either unaware or unphased by the Novak twin’s celebrity past, his delicious smell giving lie to Jimmy’s long-held understanding of how scenting worked. Theoretically, aroma indicated physical attraction and compatibility. At one of the spectrum were people who smelled like things Jimmy found disgusting, like rot or strong perfume or anchovies. To another, they might smell like roses and sunshine but he found them nauseating, and he and Cassie had never disagreed on their perception of scent. On the other extreme was the very best a person could smell, or, well, like Cassie. No one could smell better than that. Except that Dean came damn close, and he knew Cassie felt the same.

 _...Dean might smell better. But there’s more love than scent, more than physical attraction. What Cassie and I have is so much more than that. He must agree, right? What if he’s having second thoughts? Neither of us ever thought to find someone who smelled so good. Whenever we’ve wondered if what we were doing was wrong, there has always been scent to fall back on. Siblings aren’t supposed to smell good to each other, not arousingly good, and we do, we agree on that completely. Of course for each person there are multiple potential mates who smell fantastic, but we’d never met anyone else to compete with each other. Other people smelled good, but they didn’t smell_ that _good, and that simplified everything, confirmed everything. If someone can smell as good as Dean, what does that mean for us?_

Abruptly, Jimmy realized he was standing in the middle of the room clutching napkins in shaking hands. With jerky, forced movements, he finished making table and turned to the bare mattress. The twin beds in their dorm were long and narrow, and though they had repeatedly been sorely tempted to push them together to make one large bed, they feared the reaction of anyone who walked by and saw the arrangement. For one night an exception could be made. Jimmy had already moved the furniture. Hastily digging through a Walmart bag in his closet, he pulled out a king-sized sheet set and made the bed, discovering they were way too big. Artful tucking made the over-sized fitted sheet work. He finished tucking in the top sheet just as the key clicked in the lock. With a negligent toss, he flipped the pillows to the head of the bed and he had the new-washed blanket unfolded and flowing through the air as Cassie opened the door.

Jimmy expected Cassie to say something, expected him to ask questions about the set up, expected to hear _something_ , but as he finished letting the blanket settle over the bed, a silence stretched out broken only by the door clattering shut. Feeling self-conscious and horny – _fuck_ did Cassie smell good, easily scented despite the overlay of melted cheese and olives emanating from the pizza. His nascent heat surged in response, slick pooling within him. Taking a quavering breath, Jimmy smoothed his shirt and turned to face his brother. He was glad that in the dim candlelight, the brightness of his cheeks didn’t show.

_This is even worse than when I asked him to dance with me at prom._

_At least that time he looked as embarrassed as I felt. This time he looks…_

Cassie looked confused, adorably so. With his mouth slightly agape, Cassie stared at the joined beds, he stared at their candlelit dinner table for two, he stared at the pizza box, he stared at Jimmy.

“Heya, Cassie,” said Jimmy weakly, struggling to meet his brother’s eyes. _This is it. Today is it. Before this, it was easy to say “someday,” easy to say “let’s be together, let’s be a couple, let’s commit to each other exclusively.” After today, it’ll be real. Or it won’t be. Oh God, I never thought I’d be this nervous. Didn’t we settle this years ago?_ Suddenly, the pizza smelled nauseating, Jimmy’s stomach roiling. _Vomiting: that’d be a_ real _turn on, way to go Jimmy Novak, always know the way to win Cassie’s heart._

Silently, Cassie crossed the room to stand before him. Jimmy’s heart beat so fast, his breathing sped up so, he feared he’d hyper-ventilate. Cassie was so beautiful, his blue eyes burnished gold by the burning candles, his skin pale, his neatly combed hair black in the darkness. Silently, Cassie reached across the vast ocean of space that scarce divided them, ran his thumb beneath Jimmy’s eye, way smoothed by wetness. Jimmy hadn’t even realized he was crying. _God, I’m such an idiot_. He wanted to crack a joke, make light of it, but the words wouldn’t come, only a helpless, mortifying sound deep in his throat. Silently, Cassie leaned forward and their lips brushed. The kiss was perfect; their kisses were always perfect, their matched height meaning they lined up ideally, Cassie’s lips so soft, so giving, so hot. Another sound of distress died in Jimmy’s throat, scarce able to reciprocate he felt so lost. Pulling away from him, Cassie frowned, his brow knit with worry, and then drew Jimmy close, sliding one hand from Jimmy’s face to the back of his head, wrapping the other around Jimmy’s back, elbow over Jimmy’s spine, hand curled powerfully around his shoulder. _He’s so confident. How does he do it, how is he so strong at the moments when I’m weak? I’m supposed to be the strong one._ Cassie’s fingers dug into the dip at Jimmy’s clavicle; held so tightly, Jimmy could feel the faint quiver that gave lie to his belief that Cassie wasn’t as worried as he.

“What’s the matter?” Cassie whispered in his ear.

“Are you sure, Cassie?” Jimmy asked, doing his damnedest to quell the surge of tears that threatened to drown him into incoherence and ruin any hope of a romantic evening. _We’ve never even had a date before. This would have been our first date, except I’m screwing it up_. Drawing back from his brother slightly, careful not to dislodge that wonderful, reassuring grip on his shoulder, Jimmy met Cassie’s eyes, tried and failed to read meaning in Cassie’s expression. “I mean…once we do this…and I’m sure, like, I’m _really_ sure, but I’ve always pushed you into more than you were ready for, and I’m sorry for that, I really am, and I don’t want to push you into this. If you have doubts, that’s alright. We can wait. We have our whole lives to get this right, you know?” _And five minutes, one wrong decision, to fuck it up irrevocably._

“Jimmy, I—”

“No, really, it’s okay,” interrupted Jimmy desperately. _What am I doing? Keep your fucking mouth shut, will you?_ “You don’t need to say anything, we can figure it out later, we can—”

A mouth pressed powerfully to his muffled the words to nothing, a tongue insistently licked at his lips, demanded entrance, and Cassie kissed him aggressively. The hand around his head tensed; Jimmy couldn’t have broken off the kiss even had he wanted to. He didn’t want to, though. Locked together, their mouths were open, lips moved against lips, tongues against tongues, saliva mingling. Jimmy lapped at Cassie’s mouth eagerly, unable to get enough of his flavor, and reveled in Cassie doing the same. Each time Cassie started to draw away, he returned, even more assertively, even more dominantly. The hand at his shoulder massaged Jimmy subtly, easing the tension from his back. Urgently, Jimmy wrapped his arms around his brother’s shoulders and clung to him with all his strength. Their bodies pressed so closely together Jimmy could scarce draw breath, Cassie’s rutting against his in time to the working of their lips, Cassie’s erection hard against Jimmy’s thigh, his own tangled uncomfortably in his underclothes.

When they finally broke apart, Jimmy gasped for breath, light-headed and beyond aroused. Slick made his crack wet, dampened his boxers.

“I’m sure, Jimmy,” Cassie panted. “God, I’m so sure. I love you so much I can’t stand it, brother. After all these years, how can you doubt that?”

“I don’t,” Jimmy managed. “But I want you to be happy. I don’t ever want you to look at me with regret.”

“I won’t.” Cassie buried his nose against Jimmy’s neck, scenting him deeply, shifted to catch at the spare skin with his teeth. “I don’t regret anything we’ve done, and I swear, I never will.” Jimmy moaned at the promise in those words, in Cassie’s nips. In his fantasies, Cassie marked him on the neck, claimed him for all to see. That wasn’t an option, could never be, but he could dream. “You’re mine, Jimmy. Always _mine_.”

A hard shove tumbled Jimmy onto his back on the bed. Instantly, Cassie was atop him, ignoring the protest of springs, kissing him to distraction, tearing at the buttons on Jimmy’s jeans. Winded and beyond desperate as his heat hit him full force, Jimmy fumbled at the buttons of Cassie’s shirt, finally winning through them to push the garment aside. He wanted to lavish attention on the flesh thus revealed, but Cassie didn’t relent in his kisses, shimmying to work Jimmy’s pants down his hips and down to his knees. Flailing awkwardly, Jimmy worked them off the rest of the way as he rubbed his palms over Cassie’s bared chest, kneaded at Cassie’s sides and chest. Settling between Jimmy’s legs, Cassie pressed his cloth crotch to Jimmy’s exposed erection, effectively pinning Jimmy to the mattress with only his hips and mouth.

“I’m going to eat you up later,” Cassie managed between feverish kisses. “Lick every inch of you clean.” Fingers increasingly unresponsive, Jimmy made an ineffectual attempt to unbutton Cassie’s trousers. “Swallow down every drop of slick you leak, every drop of my release that oozes free.” Confident hands closed over Jimmy’s and together they freed Cassie’s cock from his pants, tugging his underwear out of the way. “I’ll share with you, if you want.” Jimmy moaned. Cassie’s hands shifted to the hem of Jimmy’s shirt, tugging it up so that it bunched at his arm pits, nails raking over the flesh thus exposed. “But first I’m going to fill you up.” Reaching over, Cassie grabbed a pillow. When Jimmy didn’t react, Cassie used brute strength to heft his hips and slip the pillow beneath. Belatedly catching up, Jimmy spread his legs wide, pivoted his hips, set his feet on the edge of the bed, knees high on either side of Cassie’s slim body. “Knot you.” A strong grip wrapped around Jimmy’s cock and stroked him, two fingers thrust easily into his slick hole. Jimmy gasped and bucked as pleasure like a drug surged through him. His heat, so recently begun that Jimmy wasn’t a hundred percent sure he’d read his body right, kicked into overdrive; the only thought in his mind, all-consuming, was how much he needed Cassie’s cock in his ass _immediately_. “Feel you come around me over—” Fingers pulled out and thrust back in hard. “—and over—” A nail swiped over Jimmy’s prostate and he tried and failed to form the words to beg around a wail of pleasure. “—and over again.” Everything was always so much more intense when he was in heat, he couldn’t believe it. “I’ve waited a lifetime for to claim you, Jimmy.”

“Please, Cassie!” Jimmy finally found breath with which to plead. His hips rolled involuntarily into Cassie’s firmly stroking grip. “Me too, me too, please, I can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” breathed Cassie. Cassie’s fingers withdrew roughly from his ass, leaving Jimmy empty, desperate broken words leaking from his mouth. He felt helpless before Cassie’s onslaught, lost in the compulsion of his need, completely at Cassie’s mercy. It didn’t worry him; Cassie teased him sometimes but never took advantage – of the two of them, Jimmy was far more likely to taunt, but that was beyond him that evening. Looking into Cassie’s shadowed face tonight, Jimmy knew there’d be no delay. Every taut line of Cassie’s expression showed him as desperate for this as Jimmy. The last of Jimmy’s doubts and worries evaporated. Cassie’s cock pressed against his hole, muscles long accustomed to accommodating that perfect bulk stretched easily, and with a firm thrust Cassie seated himself completely within Jimmy’s body. Pleasure so intense that Jimmy’s vision went black washed over him, every cell of his body screaming satisfaction and bliss and perfection. This was _exactly_ what he wanted, exactly what he needed. Cassie’s grip on Jimmy’s cock stuttered and relaxed but it wasn’t needed; just feeling Cassie within him pushed Jimmy to the edge, just seeing his slack, lustful expression, just hearing him sigh in relief was enough to drive Jimmy wild with desire. Drawing back slowly, pushing back in slowly, Cassie put his hands on either side of Jimmy’s body, rested his forehead in the crook of Jimmy’s neck, and began slow, even, controlled thrusts.

“Cassie,” Jimmy moaned. “Oh God, Castiel, harder…” A huffed, humid laugh ghosted over Jimmy’s skin and made no difference whatsoever in Cassie’s pace. The ridge of Cassie’s cock passed delightfully over Jimmy’s prostate at every thrust, constant and perfect and maddening. “Please, please, please, please, please…” the word leaked from Jimmy incessantly, matching each thrust, until it lost all meaning. Bliss mounted on bliss, Jimmy felt wound tighter and tighter, body tensing around Cassie, forcing a growl from his brother. Jimmy’s fingers strained at Cassie’s back, the loose flaps of Cassie’s shirt brushing his skin tantalizingly, hot lips sucked lightly at Jimmy’s neck. “Oh, _fuck_ , please, I’m going to—” The words choked in Jimmy’s throat as his pleasure surged and, untouched, he spurted thick white onto his belly with a sobbing moan. His channel clenched tight around Cassie’s cock, increasing the friction, surging even greater bliss through him, his hips bucking through a second release.

“God, yes,” Cassie groaned and thrust harder. “You smell like _heaven_ , Jimmy.” Though Cassie kept the same restrained pace, each thrust was sharp, drawing Cassie nearly all the way out, driving him to fill Jimmy again in one crisp burst. Jimmy’s hips stuttered up to meet him, pushing him further. A hand reached between their bodies, swirled through the release pooled at Jimmy’s belly button, came to Cassie’s lips coated in white. Cassie sucked the liquid down, eyes black and unfocused, then held the finger to Jimmy’s lips. Jimmy licked it desperately, hips rolling to match everyone one of Cassie’s thrusts. His cock was yet achingly hard despite his orgasm.

“Knot me,” Jimmy begged. Cassie groaned, and scant moments later Jimmy felt the beginnings of Cassie’s knot swell and catch at the rim of his hole. “Knot me, brother!”

Gumming at Jimmy’s neck, Cassie’s pace quickened, his self-control eroded. Unable to muster any strength in limbs gone weak after his first orgasm, Jimmy lay gasping and moaning on the bed, head pounding with ecstasy and need and desire and hope. Every thrust brought pleasure such as he’d scarce imagined before, though they’d knotted many times when Jimmy was in heat. The source of that extra stimulation, he knew vaguely, was the comparatively faint feeling of Cassie’s lips seeking over his flesh, his nose snuffling at Jimmy’s skin. The scent of delicious lemon and vanilla sated Jimmy’s empty stomach as Cassie’s cock satisfied his desperate, heat-crazed body. A slight spike of pain, entirely welcome, spoke to Cassie nipping a bruise into his neck, and then Cassie’s head was lower, below Jimmy’s scrunched up shirt, sucking at his chest, teasing his nipples, seeking a perfect place to mark Jimmy as his mate. At every powerful, urgent thrust, Cassie’s knot swelled that much more, struggled increasingly to win back into Jimmy’s body, to pull back out. Both were beyond words, beyond thought, running purely on instinct and desire and lust and love.

Everything crested at once. With a guttural, broken groan, Cassie’s knot caught, his cock surging to spill thick liquid into Jimmy’s slickened channel. Jimmy’s body bucked, rocked by a second orgasm at the feeling of Cassie’s knot stretching him wide, of Cassie’s come filling him even more completely. Jimmy’s muscles clenching wondrously around the dick buried within him, forced a second deep groan from his brother. Teeth sank into the flesh surrounding Jimmy’s right nipple, breaking the skin in a large oval with the taut nub in the center. There was a rush of utter bliss as Cassie sucked in Jimmy’s blood.

“Cas—” Jimmy’s vision flashed, suffused with the wavering gold of the candles like a sun against the sky of Cassie’s gorgeous eyes. His hands gripped convulsively at the sheets. “Casti—”

“Jimmy,” Cassie moaned against his flesh, lapping at the seeping red. “My Jimmy!” His hips bucked against Jimmy’s as Cassie climaxed again. Skin slapped against skin, sticking as Jimmy’s slickened thighs met Cassie’s damp with sweat. With a burst of strength, Jimmy got a hand buried in Cassie’s hair, dragged Cassie’s head up. Resistance spoke to Cassie’s desire to continue to lap at the wound he’d made, but Jimmy refused to let go and Cassie surrendered, his eyes shut and mouth slack with bliss. Inhaling deeply, Jimmy suffused his senses with Cassie’s scent until he could taste the pie in his mouth, smell it so powerfully he felt dizzy. Jimmy leaned forward, brushed Cassie’s unbuttoned shirt aside, trailed his tongue over the musky, sweaty skin of Cassie’s shoulder, his chest, his breast, his side.

The perfect spot was obvious; when Jimmy’s lips brushed over it he nearly swooned, it tasted so much like _Cas_. With a lick, Jimmy cleaned the sheen of sweat over the place that drew him so, on Cassie’s right side not far below his armpit. Sucking for a second, he coaxed broken moans from his brother, “yes...yes, plea...plea...se...Jim...Jimmy...plea...” Jimmy’s teeth scarcely seemed sharp enough to break skin but instinct took over, Jimmy bit hard, gasped and spluttered as blood flooded over his tongue. Hot and intoxicating, the coppery flavor was still uniquely Cas and it tasted so incredibly right. He could swear that in that first instant he felt the bond forming, though he knew in what small part of his brain could still process anything other than pleasure that it would actually take several days, biologically, for Cassie’s blood to integrate with his own and bond them for life. Desperate for every drop, he sucked hard as Cassie moaned and quivered above him, hips rolling as Jimmy’s muscles clenched and relaxed around Cassie’s cock. A hard thrust attempted uselessly to drive Cassie deeper as he came yet again, releasing so much within his body that Jimmy felt swollen with come.

“Castiel,” Jimmy breathed, wrapping his hands around Cassie’s slim waist. “I love you.” He looked up to see his brother staring down, expression abstracted.

“Your knot,” murmured Cassie. Confused, Jimmy looked down between their bodies. His eye caught a ruby bead on Cassie’s side and he couldn’t resist licking it up. Cassie groaned, reached between them and wrapped a hand around the base of Jimmy’s cock. Jimmy barely muffled a scream against Cassie’s ribs as pleasure beyond intense, painfully strong, ruined him, obliterated all awareness.

“You’re alright, I’m sorry, you’re alright.” Frantic whispers spilled into his ears, pulled him back. Agonized breaths scraped through Jimmy’s throats, his hips thrusting weakly against where Cassie yet had a firm and protective grip around Jimmy’s cock.

“It’s okay,” Jimmy managed. If he didn’t know his heart was racing, he’d think the slower pulse of pleasure pounding through him powerfully was his heartbeat. “I’m okay. Holy fucking _wow_ , Cassie. What happened?”

“Your knot’s swollen,” explained Cassie, panting. “I thought you’d liked...you came...you screamed...God, you scared me, you couldn’t hear me, I didn’t think...I should have realized how intense it’d feel for you, you’re not used to it.” Carefully, Cassie squeezed the sensitive flesh at the base of Jimmy’s cock, never responsive before, and he moaned and arched against the sweaty sheets beneath him, straining into Cassie’s hand.

“Gonna...” Cassie leaned down and licked up a trail of blood leaking over Jimmy’s side. Fingers clenched, rubbed, and Jimmy sobbed in pleasure. “Cas, I’m gonna...”

“Going to come again for me, brother?”

“Yes!”

Grip tightening, Cassie stroked just the swollen base of his cock, and Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut and shattered, felt Cassie surge within him yet again with, felt Cassie’s growling groan shiver through his body. The high lasted for long moments, endless moments, before they both went limp, Cassie collapsing atop him, Jimmy wrapping an arm around him and holding him close.

“Good,” whispered Cassie. “I live to make you come, brother.”

“Forever,” Jimmy replied.

Shifting, Cassie’s knot tugged at his rim and rattled him with pleasure. Jimmy wrapped his arms around Cassie’s back; Cassie snuggled closer, wiggled to get comfortable, allowed Jimmy to support all his weight. A playful lick at Jimmy’s neck made him giggle, and he tightened his hold.

“Mine, now,” Jimmy grinned. Cassie laughed, squirmed, nuzzled his neck. Triumphant, he added, “Yes!”

“Forever,” echoed Cassie happily. “Always. I love you Jimmy,” kiss, “brother,” kiss, “husband.”

It was a long time before either of them thought of the pizza again.

* * *

**September 25 th, 2012**  


Awkward silence was a hallmark of Dean’s phone calls with his and Sam’s adopted parents. When he’d first arrived at college, it had been because he’d been bitter, unwilling to think of Singer and Sheriff Mills as family, furious at them because they’d argued vociferously against Dean taking Sam with him, as if Dean would consider going _anywhere_ , even to college, without bringing his younger brother along. Mills in particular had grown more angry than Dean had ever seen her. A woman that slim and short should not be that frightening when infuriated, but Dean had been genuinely intimidated – which only increased his determination not to leave Sam behind in Sioux Falls when he went to Urbana-Champaign. Sam had seemed content either way until he saw how much it mattered to Dean, and then he’d insisted on going to Illinois as well. Only then had Mills relented.

 _Jody. Gotta learn to call them Bobby and Jody, not Singer and Mills_.

Now, their conversations were awkward because Dean had never apologized for his behavior over those difficult years. He couldn’t understand why they fuck they still put up with him, much less welcomed him back over and over again. He couldn’t understand how they tolerated him.

“So, uh, I was thinking...” Dean broached nervously. Tense quiet was the only answer and he swallowed hard. “If it’d be okay with you – I know it’s a lot of work, but maybe we could come home for Thanksgiving?” The line might have been dead for all the reply he got. “Never mind, I—”

_Have I ever called it ‘home’ before?_

“No,” interrupted Jody, oddly breathless. “That’d be great, Dean! We’d love to have you and Sam back.”

“You didn’t think we’d ever mind, didja, boy?” added Bobby gruffly.

“Mighta,” muttered Dean.

“Well, we don’t,” Bobby snapped. Dean flinched.

“Bobby,” scolded Jody. “Behave. Dean, of course it’d be a pleasure if you two returned for the holidays. I haven’t done a full Thanksgiving meal in years, it’ll be fun!”

“You don’t have to work, do you?”

“That’s my problem,” she said firmly. “If I say it’s alright, then it’s alright.”

“Thanks,” said Dean, quietly releasing a relieved sigh. Two conversations with his therapist and three weeks of convincing himself had gone into that simple request, and as Dr. Barnes had predicted, it hadn’t been a problem. Dean hadn’t dared believe it. Bobby and Jody had already done so much for him, asked nothing in return. It never made sense to him that they did so, and every act of benevolence made it harder for Dean to ask for more. They were fucking saints. In retrospect, he regretted insisting that Sam accompany him to college, but it was too late to change that now. Sam had done his freshman and sophomore years at the local high school; none of them would ask him to switch schools now.

While his success still left him flushed, Dean took a deep breath and added, “Christmas, too?”

There was a brief pause; Dean could practically see the look the two exchanged as they sat together on their old, worn couch, holding the phone on speaker between them. “We’d like that, Dean,” said Jody brightly.

“Well, uh, I’d better go,” he concluded in a rush. “Talk to you over the weekend?”

“Jody’ll be working Saturday night, but I’ll be here,” said Bobby. “We can talk then.” Bobby managed to make the words sound ominous, and though it made Dean nervous he knew it shouldn’t. The middle-aged beta was the gruffest, meanest, most standoffish, fucking _sweetest_ person Dean had ever met. When Dean had stumbled to his knees along the side of the highway those years ago, he’d had no idea how lucky he’d been that he and his brother were found by Sheriff Jody. Now, he knew he’d been luckier than he ever deserved.

“Ok, bye,” Dean said, hanging up. His hand was trembling, reaction setting in after barely finding the nerve to open his mouth. Breathing hard, he collapsed, sitting, on the edge of his bed, bending near double to rest his head against his knees.

 _Oh, God, I’m inconveniencing them again, I’m being a bother again, they’re always so kind to me and I’ve been such an asshole. I was so sure they were like everyone else, I was so sure they would hurt us when all was said and done that I never even gave them a chance. I don’t deserve their kindness, I’ve never done a fucking thing to earn it. I should send Sammy home and stay here myself, that’s all I deserve. In my selfishness, I hurt them, I hurt Sammy, I hurt my father. So many people have sacrificed for me, so many people have given me more than I deserved_.

There was a metal box buried deep in the tiny closet in his small room, a simple, cheap lock ensuring that even should Sam find it, he’d have to work a little to get it open. Inside were several sterilized razor blades, individually wrapped gauze pads, flesh tape, a small bottle of alcohol, and a handful of cotton balls. At moments like this, his thoughts _screamed_ to get the key from where he’d hidden it in his boot, to retrieve the box, to lock his bedroom door and relieve the itch under his skin as he’d once done often, by striping his inner thigh, by trying to fix with pain all the ways that he was broken, all the ways that no amount of time in either Dr. Alastair’s or Dr. Moseley’s care had fixed him.

 _It’s okay, it’s okay, they aren’t angry with me for asking, they won’t hurt me for challenging them. Even if they had said no, it still would have been alright, there wouldn’t have been consequences for my daring to ask, wouldn’t have been manipulation and guilt and mistreatment to punish me subtly. They want to help me, I know they want to help me. They have no agenda. They’re selfless. They want what’s best for me, what’s_ actually _best for me._

He hadn’t cut himself since freshman year. After he’d gotten to campus and started talking to Dr. Barnes, he’d started injuring himself more and more obviously, switching from his thighs to his shoulders to his forearms until she couldn’t help but notice. At the time, he had no idea why he’d done that, he’d kept his behavior a secret since the first time he’d cut, not long after it had become clear that no matter how he acted out, Jody Mills was _determined_ to take him and Sam in to her house. He’d arrived at his therapy session defiantly, cuts unbandaged on his arm, daring Dr. Barnes to say something. She hadn’t. They’d sat feet apart for an hour and they’d talked about Dean’s classes, about his freshman fears, about making friends, about his determination not to go home for Christmas, and she’d never said a word. The following week he’d told her everything. In retrospect, he recognized he’d been screaming for the help he couldn’t ask for.

When he made it a week without hurting himself, he got his first piercing. When he made it a month, he got the first ring through his lip. When, six weeks in, he sat in his room holding the blade to his skin with a trembling hand, he convinced himself to put it aside by promising himself a more rewarding kind of pain. The next day, he’d started his tattoo, permanently etching the shattered lock onto the back of his hand. Every time he passed a milestone without breaking – six months, a year, the anniversary of his mother’s death, his real birthday, his fake birthday – he got a new piercing. Every time he nearly cracked but didn’t, he added another link to the chain.

_Jody and Bobby are not John Winchester. It’s horrible and unfair that I persist in thinking of them as I’ve come to think of him._

It was time to go back to the tattoo parlor.

Trembling fingers buried in his hair, Dean stayed still until he felt like he could breathe without pain in his chest, until his hands stopped shaking, until his mind no longer screamed to be free of this body that never felt like his own.

“Dean?”

Sick fear coursed through him. This was the worst he’d felt since the end of last spring semester, so of _course_ this is the moment when Sam would walk in on him.

Jerking his head up, forcing a smile, Dean pushed down a wave of dizziness, fought through stomach-twisting nausea. “Heya, Sammy, how’s things? Good day at school?” Sam stood framed in the door, leaning against the molding. At 15, Sam was already nearly as tall as Dean and it was any guess where he’d stop growing. No one looking at him could doubt Sam’s lie that he was 16. Before Dean had started school, it had taken a lot of work to get the small, on-campus apartment that they shared, but it had been worth it. Nothing was going to separate them, so he’d sworn at the time, and this way he’d never have to share a room with a stranger. Instead, they had a suite in the dorm building dedicated to students with family. It was smaller than most studio apartments, two bedrooms barely big enough for their beds, a similarly cramped bathroom, and a common room that doubled as a living room and kitchen. This was their third year in the same place, but it felt less like home than Jody and Bobby’s pokey house.

“Yeah,” said Sam at length, watching Dean the whole time. Hesitantly, Sam crossed the room and sat beside Dean on the bed. It was impossible not to start as his brother reached an arm around his shoulders, pulled him close. “You know you don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you’re not. Do you want to talk about it?”

 _I’m okay. I’m okay now_. It sounded like hollow bullshit, his own voice plaintive in his thoughts.

“No, I’m good,” Dean lied. “We’re going home for Thanksgiving.”

“Home...?” Sam asked, wide-eyed.

“Uncle Bobby and Sheriff Jody’s place,” Dean clarified. The smile Sam gave him was dazzling. Sam had been ready to think of it as home, to think of them as family, almost from the beginning. Another thing that Dean had deprived him of.

_No, stop thinking that way._

_Fuck, this is the darkest place I’ve been for ages, and I have no idea why. I need to call Dr. Barnes, or maybe Dr. Moseley. Maybe my hormone meds got fucked up. Maybe...I don’t know. I just know something feels wrong. More than just having a difficult conversation._

Shaking himself out, shaking Sam’s arm off, Dean rose abruptly. Another burst of dizziness washed over him and he barely hid a sway by turning back to face his brother.

“Dinner?” he asked with forced cheerfulness. Sam frowned at him, lips full and pouty, rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Whatever it is, you’ll tell Dr. Barnes?”

“I will tell Dr. Barnes,” Dean promised. The best part was that he meant it.

 _I’m doing better. I may not be okay right now, but I will be_.

They had a kitchen in the apartment, but often they made the walk down to the Lincoln Ave Residence Hall, where, unless they were busy with class or Abnormal business, Charlie, Jo, and a group of their others friends could invariably be found. A single meal plan sufficed for both of them since they ate at home also. The whole was funded on a combination of student loans and Dean’s meager savings, money earned over the summers and weekends. The tattoos and piercings he raised money for separately, doing online data entry, saving up for future need. It _was_ need, he was as addicted to self-adornment as he’d once been to self-harm, and for many of the same reasons.

_Fix this broken body, express all that pain I can’t find the words for, find an outlet for this energy I can’t channel elsewhere, repair what was destroyed in Dr. Alastair’s office, create a new image, my own image, from the flawed one forced on me in the past._

After months of feeling relatively comfortable in his own skin, he had nearly a thousand dollars saved for tattoos. He wouldn’t need nearly that much to add a link. For the first time, he thought he’d pull some funds and use them to buy Christmas gifts. Sam, he always got a present for, but this year he wanted to get something for Jody and Bobby, too, and for Dr. Moseley, and maybe for Charlie and Benny.

To Dean’s relief, Sammy didn’t push for Dean to confide in him. Instead, they made small talk about Sam’s classes, his homework, the college-level courses he was taking that semester. Sam’s school had a partnership with the University and Sam earned college credits for many of his classes. In his first two years, Sam had already taken enough hours to skip his freshman year of college. The kid was fucking _brilliant._ Talking about what Sam was studying always made Dean feel better when he was low, made him feel like he hadn’t done Sam an injustice by dragging him away from Sioux Falls.

 _I didn’t deprive him of anything. If we hadn’t left Lawrence, he’d not have had these opportunities. John didn’t want either of us to waste money going to college, John would have screwed up high school for Sam as badly as he screwed it up for me, trying to fix him, trying to make him be an alpha_.

Sam had presented as omega a year and a half ago.

_John would have hurt him even worse than John hurt me. I could take it. Sam was just an innocent kid._

In the background of their conversation, Dean ran through a familiar litany of self-corrections to every negative thought his demons could conjure. By the time they arrived at the dining hall, he was feeling much better and had texted his tattoo artist. Balthazar had gotten back to him in record time, an appointment made for 9 pm that night. This would be the 15th link in the chain; at this point they both had it down to a science, knew exactly how long it would take, how long it would require to heal, how much it would cost. Balthazar even knew how much ink to use so he wouldn’t waste much.

The Abnormal officers always sat at the same table. Often, they did club business; other times, they played games or shot the shit. Who was there always varied, but it could be assumed that at virtually any time of day _someone_ would be there. There were some that Dean would much rather see than others, and before he and Sammy went through the lines to get food, Dean poked his head into the dining room to see who was present. With a twinkle in her eye, Charlie spotted him from across the room and waved excitedly. Benny was at her side, grabbing a meal before the alpha-to-beta trans group meeting that night. Their presence settled the question of whether Dean would stay, even though Lisa’s presence was as always a deterrent. Dean hadn’t bothered to date much. He had enough problems of his own without worrying about anyone else’s issues, especially anyone else from Abnormal, but Lisa had been _very_ interested, and Dean had thought it worth a try. They’d made it two weeks. Though they’d gotten along alright personality-wise, Dean hadn’t felt any physical attraction to her at all. Despite his apologies, Lisa had taken his physiological non-interest far too personally. He wished it were different but he couldn’t help it; even with all the help he’d gotten, arousal was still too linked to sickness and misery and surgery and guilt; hardness was still too closely tied to a feeling of _wrongness_ , the knowledge in his heart that though he’d never had a heat, he was not supposed to be an alpha. Knot or no knot, that wasn’t who he was. He might say he was an alpha – what else could he say? – and he had the knot to back it up, but he wasn’t, not really. He’d thought that Lisa would understand that and relate, considering she’d been born beta but was so determined that she was omega that she had been on hormone supplements for four years, but she’d been surprisingly unwilling to consider his personal identification. If he’d been _born_ an alpha and thought he was an omega, he thought she’d understand, but that he was more than one thing _at the same time_ seemed beyond her ability to accept. Dean wasn’t even sure she’d believed him.

_Not that I told her enough to understand._

_Not that I don’t think the same sometimes. Maybe all the confusion is in my head. If I would just accept that I’m an omega, maybe Dr. Alastair’s surgery could be reversed, maybe I could be fixed, or fixed back, or fixed again, or something. No, it’s not that simple. Dr. Moseley says too much has been done to me to reverse Alastair’s work without endangering me. I’m both, I really am both. Except I’m not, since I’m not a functional omega. Really, I’m just an alpha. Who am I kidding?_

Such thoughts were why he didn’t like eating at the dining hall when Lisa was there. Hopefully, by the time he and Sam got through the long lines, Lisa would have left.

 _Sam takes me seriously. Dr. Moseley takes me seriously. Dr. Barnes takes me seriously. Charlie and Benny and Ash and Professor Shurley take me seriously. Jody and Bobby take me seriously. They accept my assessment of myself. They support me. This isn’t all in my head. The way I am isn’t_ wrong _. It’s who I am. If Lisa can’t accept that, it’s her problem._

It was just after 6 and the dining hall was packed. Students moved in all directions, the hot food lines were packed, and the contrasting smells of different foods mixed so thoroughly and disgustingly that Dean’s nausea resurfaced. He let go of his hope of getting a real meal and instead headed for the pre-cooked display, grabbing himself a dry, over-cooked hamburger and old batch of fries. Sam beelined for the salad bar, though he wasn’t above dumping an unhealthy amount of ranch dressing over his supposedly healthy lettuce and vegetables.

One smell differentiated itself from the morass and drew Dean’s attention.

_Yeah, I could go for some dessert, did I actually get here early enough to get pie for once?_

“Hey, Dean!”

 _No, it’s just_ them _. Jesus fuck they smell good_.

Dean turned with a wide smile, not at all surprised to find himself facing a grinning Jimmy Novak. The slim, tall man stood out from the crowd as the most handsome damn man in the room, blue eyes bright, a brown plastic tray in his hands bearing a slice of pizza and a piece of the longed-for pie. No actual slice could smell as delicious as the twin himself. Inhaling deeply, Dean let the small wash over him, let it tingle through his body, let it inexplicably relieve him. Something niggled at his memory. There was something different about Jimmy’s scent, as impossible as that seemed. Sure, scents could change, but only for major life events – presenting, mating, child-bearing, menopause, that kind of thing.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas’ greeting was more restrained as he came up behind Dean. “Jimmy, are you ready?” There was something subtly different about how Cas smelled, also.

“Yep,” Jimmy nodded, walking past Dean to stand beside his brother. “How about you, Dean?”

“We’re set,” he said, waving Sam over. The four got in the long checkout line together. They made small talk – _how was your week? Some weather we’ve been having_ , the usual bull – and Dean tried to put his finger on what had changed in their scent. Concentrating on that helped settle his stomach, forced away all the contrasting food smells that had him feeling like vomiting. It also buzzed him with arousal. For once, that didn’t bother Dean.

_It’s different with them. They’re so beautiful. They’re so nice. They smell so good._

“Well, uh, we were gonna sit over there,” said Cas quietly, gesturing vaguely towards the small tables lined up along the windows.

“No way,” Dean shook his head, grinning. “Come sit with us!” He gestured towards the Abnormal bunch. Lisa was gone, thank fucking _God_. Fricken Zeddmore had taken her place, which wasn’t much of an improvement, but Aaron and Jo had shown up and it could have been worse. Becky could have been there.

“Oh, that’d be alright?” said Jimmy. “We thought the table might be club officers only.”

“Absolutely not,” said Dean. “I mean, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, but anyone is welcome, Abnormal member or not. Are you two plannin’ on coming tomorrow...?”

“We’ll be there,” said Cas with quiet confidence. Jimmy beamed at him. Something in the way they looked at each other brought that buzz of pleasure in Dean’s veins up a pitch, quickened his heart rate. Nothing about _that_ made any sense, and he tried to push the thought away.

The four made their way to the big, circular table, filling the remaining seats. Dumping ketchup on his burger, salting his fries, Dean did the minimum he could get away with as the group exchanged greetings. Charlie made quick introductions between the twins and those who hadn’t met them before, and everyone settled in to eat while Charlie and Benny, the only two who were done with their food, argued about the formatting for the poster for the next month’s meeting.

“What if you put the logo in the background?” asked Cas. Shocked eyes turned towards the twin, and he did a remarkable job of hiding behind his fork. “Sorry...”

“No, that’s a great idea,” said Charlie with enthusiastic supportiveness. “What do you think, Benny?”

“How’d that work, exactly?” Benny frowned at the sample he and Charlie had been examining, turning the page sideways as if that would somehow give him the ability to see what Cas was describing. Amused, Dean focused on his French fries, swatting at Sam’s hand whenever his brother tried to steal some.

Charlie and Benny turned expectantly towards Cas.

“Um, well, it’d be easy...you’re seniors, you must know how...” Cas glanced at Jimmy, who gave his brother a supportive pat on the back and offered no further support, crunching on the thick crust of his pizza.

“I can use MS Paint...” Benny said, scowling and turning the print out upside down.

“I am the _queen_ of Excel, but I’ll own, graphic design isn’t my strong point,” Charlie said. It was a flagrant lie; Dean had never seen the computer program that Charlie wasn’t ace at. Charlie wasn’t above lying her face off if it forced new Abnormal members to get more involved. Aaron and Jo exchanged knowing grins.

“Bet Sammy could do it,” Dean said, earning a scowl from Charlie and grateful look from Cas.

“No, Cassie’s got this,” said Jimmy, picking up his fork to poke at his pie. The slice looked to be cherry, but all Dean could smell was lemon meringue. His last few fries tasted distinctly weird with that aroma suffusing his nose. “He’s kickass at graphic design. Used to do all the fliers for our church.”

“Oh, are you religious?” asked Sam curiously.

“Our family is,” Jimmy shrugged. “We decided not to keep going now that we’re here. There are better ways to spend a Sunday morning, all of which involve _not_ having to pretend to be things we’re not.”

_Blue eyes staring into blue eyes, slim bodies pressed together, hands trailing fire across aching flesh, crotches rutting together..._

Dean swallowed, feeling sick, returning to the moment to find Jimmy staring at him. His cheeks went pink, his cock stirred in his pants.

 _Dammit there wasn’t a fucking thing suggestive in what Jimmy said, everyone likes to sleep in on Sunday if they can, where did that even come from?_ He’d sure as shit never had a fantasy like that before.

“Would you like some pie, Dean?” asked Jimmy, taking a bite of his slice.

 _God, yes, lemon meringue, please_... _key lime would work too..._

Cas was trying desperately to demure working on the poster as Charlie cajoled him. That was generally her last stage of begging before attempting bribery. She’d had to resort to bribery before Dean agreed to moderate the multi-presenter group. Charlie always got her way in the end, at least as it related to the management of the campus chapter of Abnormal.

“Don’t have a fork,” Dean managed, realizing he had to say _something_.

“Use Cassie’s, he’s busy anyway.” Jimmy grabbed the fork and passed it to Dean. There was a frisson as their hands brushed, a burst of the twin’s wonderful scent, and suddenly Dean realized what had changed about the way they smelled.

 _They’re_ mated. _Holy shit._ No one was looking at the Novaks like anything was weird, no one else they’d passed in the dining hall had shown the least sign of noticing that the clearly identical twin brothers were mated to each other. Instantly, Dean’s fantasy returned, redoubled in intensity. In Dean’s imagination, those deep voices moaned each other’s names, identical hands stroking identical cocks – were there knots? Was there slick? _I shouldn’t be thinking this, they’re brothers, they’re not lovers...no, they’re mates, they’re brothers_ and _they’re lovers and hot damn that is ridiculously sexy_.

Jimmy was staring at him. Sam was, too. Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Dean’s head spun, his stomach flipped, his ass cheeks slid against each other wetly. _Slick, God, I am_ so _slick, have I_ ever _been this wet?_

“Uh, I forgot, I...gotta go.”

“Oh,” said Sam, disappointed, hastily stacking his dishes on his tray.

“It’s fine,” Dean said sharply. “Sam, if you want to keep hanging out, hang out. I’ve got some homework to do and I’m seeing Balthazar at 9. Just don’t stay out too late, okay?”

“Sure, dad,” Sam rolled his eyes. The words seared like fucking _agony_ through Dean’s mind. All the negative thoughts he’d conquered earlier surged forward again, mixed with how turned on he was, left him tasting bile and ketchup and fryer oil and lemon sickeningly in his throat. “Crap, Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I’ll see ya later, Sammy,” Dean rose and tried to ignore the range of expressions on his friends’ faces, from Benny’s deep frown to Charlie’s concern as she chewed on her lip to the twins both wide-eyed and confused. Without waiting to hear another word from any of them, Dean bolted for their dorm. It had never seemed further, yet he doubted he’d ever gotten there faster. Fumbling with his keys, he shouldered his way through the door, let the catch lock suffice to close it, threw himself onto his bed and slammed the door behind him, clicking the button to lock it.

 _I’m so_ hot _, from the run, from the twins, from guilt. What the fuck, slicking my pants at the fucking dining hall because of the smell of pie?_

A hand in his pants confirmed what he already knew. Not only was he hard, his knot swollen and aching as it always did when he was aroused, but he was also slick, _very_ slick, a bead of liquid trailing down his thigh, his boxers wet enough he suspected they’d drip if he wrung them out. He hadn’t had a rut since his first, four years ago, thanks to the suppressant in the hormone treatments Dr. Moseley had prescribed for him. This felt a lot like he remembered that feeling, though. Desperate, he unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down his ass, freeing himself to the chill air of his bedroom. With a last burst of lucidity, he reached over and jerked his curtains closed.

_“Dean,” whispered a gorgeous voice, Castiel’s or Jimmy’s, he wasn’t sure which. “Whatever you want – a slick hole for your gorgeous cock or a knot of your own for that pink pucker. Or you can have both.” It had to be Jimmy. Dean couldn’t imagine shy Cas saying such filthy things. “You don’t have to pick. You don’t have to choose between us.”_

No, no, it was wrong to fantasize them, they were brothers, they were virtually strangers, they were with each other. If they were attracted to each other, if they smelled good to each other, if being together it made them happy, it was none of his fucking business, and it definitely wasn’t his place to objectify them or imagine how it would feel if they touched him, fucked him, slicked him. _Oh, God. Stop it, Dean_. No matter how attractive they were, no matter how good they smelled, neither of them was for him.

_No one is for me. I’m too busted for that._

Usually, the thought quelled arousal, left him sad and aching, but not this time.

 _Blue eyes staring up at him as pink lips wrapped around his cock. A firm body behind him, a cock rubbing between Dean’s cheeks, fingers toying at his hole_.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, Dean imitated his imagination, fingers pressing at his slick entrance, his other hand wrapping around his knot and rubbing. Pressure brought relief, caused the pain to fade and his pleasure to grow. Groaning, he pressed his pointer deep into himself.

_“You’re an alpha, Dean, but you’re an omega also. You’re both, we know that. No one person can satisfy you, no one person can ever be what you need, but together? You don’t have to pick, Dean. All you have to do is be yourself.” Jimmy reeked of slick, his brother’s scent spoke to a knot, though beneath that aroma Dean could smell slick trickling from Cas, could somehow smell Jimmy’s knot swelling. They were both, too. They could be whatever Dean needed. Maybe, just maybe, Dean was what they needed as well._

It was wrong, so disgustingly wrong, but _fuck_ did he feel good. There’s nothing wrong with having a fantasy, he desperately reminded himself. Dreaming of it and acting on it were two completely different things. As long as he didn’t confuse the two he’d done nothing worse than act like a creepy asshole.

_It’s alright, I’m allowed to feel this way, I’m allowed to feel good._

_“Yes, you are, and we can help you – if you’ll let us. Will you let us help you?”_

“Yes,” Dean groaned, stroking up his length as he continued to use his thumb to knead at his knot. “Please, help me...” He pressed a second finger within himself, wishing he had a more substantial toy. He’d thought about getting a dildo more than once, to satisfy his craving to be filled, to give him an alternative to toying with his cock when popping his knot so often left him feeling like something was profoundly off. He’d never done so, though, and now he regretted that. Perhaps he’d dip into his tattoo fund to get himself a nice silicon cock.

_Not like anyone will actually knot me. Look at Lisa, all she wanted was an alpha. Just like dad. If I’m not an alpha, no one gives a shit._

Straining as hard as he could, reaching deep in himself, he could scarce flick a finger tip over his prostate. Even that meager contact was phenomenal, left him blinded with pleasure, incapable of doing more than chasing that perfect feeling. Fuck being an alpha. When Dean had his fingers in himself, when he was stretched wide and slick, Dean _knew_ he wasn’t wrong about himself. This was how he was _supposed_ to feel. It was _right_ , _fantastic_ , _divine_.

 _“It’s alright, Dean, just let it go – however you feel is_ right _and appropriate. We’ve got you.”_

With a moan, Dean surrendered to the imagined voice, rubbing himself harder, thrusting fingers in and out of his ass. Straining against his hand, his hips chased that feeling, urged him harder, deeper. He wanted so much more. He gasped as his knot swelled, his cock bucked in his grip, and bliss left him panting as he came over his hand and onto the cloth of his jeans.

_“Good, Dean, so good, so handsome, so perfect...we love you just as you are...”_

_Shit. What’s the matter with me?_

“Well, that was embarrassing,” Dean muttered, grabbing a tissue and wiping his hand on it.

There was a knock on his door and his stomach turned.

“Dean, are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

Cause it wasn’t mortifying enough, now Sammy was here too. Fan-fucking-tastic.

“I’m fine, Sam,” he said, hoping his raspy voice didn’t give him away.

“Fine,” Sam’s sigh was audible, and Dean was prepared to swear that Sam’s rolled eyes were audible as well. “Whatever you say. Are you still going to the tattoo parlor tonight?”

“Sure am,” Dean said. Now he was even more sure than earlier. Coming had hardly calmed him at all, he felt overwrought, buzzed, almost high. He itched to relieve the pressure in his head, the ache for more filling him, the sickening contrast between rightness and wrongness when he masturbated, the shame of fantasizing about the sexy twins he barely knew, the sexy twins who were _mated_.

“Hey, Sam?”

“What, Dean?” There was a note of optimism in Sam’s voice. His brother never stopped hoping that Dean would open up to him.

 _I could never do that. I could never burden Sam with all my baggage. Things are bad enough as they are_.

_No, that’s not true, that’s not how things are, that’s—_

“Weird question.”

“You can ask me anything.” The optimism in Sam’s voice gave way to eagerness.

“Those twins...do they smell funny to you?” asked Dean before he could convince himself to keep his fucking mouth shut.

“Huh?” That one word could express such surprise and stupefaction, through the barrier of a closed door, was pretty damn impressive.

“You think Cas and Jimmy smell okay?” he repeated. _Do you think they smell like fucking perfection incarnate? Do you think they smell like they’re a bonded couple?_

“They smell fine, I guess...kinda sweet? Maybe like lemon? They both smell exactly the same, so it’s kinda sick intense sometimes. I dunno, it comes off like Pine-Sol to me,” said Sam. “Why?”

“Dude, Pine-Sol smells like _pine_ , that’s the whole fricken point,” Dean sighed.

“There’s lemon Pine-Sol, Dean—”

“It’s nothing, just forget it.” They didn’t smell exactly the same to him, Cas was more citrus, Jimmy somehow smelled like fucking Sprite bubbling against his throat. Maybe he had a better sense of smell than Sam? There’d never been any reason to think that before, but whatever. If Sam had noticed that the twins were mated, he’d definitely have said something. Knowing his nerdy kid brother, Sam would find that _interesting_ , instead of fricken weird like most people would. _And not hot, like I do._

_This is a whole new level of kinky. Never knew I had it in me._

Up to now, the kinkiest thing Dean could say about himself was that he liked giving blow jobs, much to Benny’s occasional satisfaction.

Shaking off the thoughts, Dean waited until he heard Sam move away, cleaned himself up and changed into a fresh pair of boxers and jeans. Grabbing his books, he headed into the living room to make good on his claim that he was doing his homework. At 8:30, he put everything aside, said his goodbyes to Sam, and made his way to _The Ink Spot_.

Balthazar’s tattoo parlor was located in a narrow back alley about a half-mile from campus. It was a small hole in the wall with a window ornately painted with popular tattoo motifs – a bright orange koi sprouting enormous angel wings curled around a Day of the Dead skull; a cross-clutching Jesus incongruously had a large tribal motif on his shoulder and a heart on the back of one hand, neat cursive dedicating the heart to _Mary, My Mother in Heaven_ ; a scattering of stars made a halo around his head, some tangled in a feathered and jeweled dream catcher; around it all, a large dragon circled, body Asian style, large wings continuing above the glass as a mural on the wall. There was not a single bit of space clear, from the small semi-colon painted next to the sign indicating that Balthazar took Visa and Mastercard to the Celtic knot work that made an intricate pattern in place of dragon’s scales to the scrawl of Asian characters that Balthazar swore spelled out “Only idiots who don’t speak Chinese or Japanese get tattoos like this.” Balthazar also swore that no less than seven dude-bros had insisted on getting that exact inscription somewhere on their bodies. Dean wouldn’t believe him except that he’d actually run into one of the idiots at a party during finals week the previous year. On the bricks above the window, lit by a flood light mounted on the opposite the alley, the dragon’s wings spread increasingly diaphanously until the bones and sinew formed the name of the store.

Balthazar had done the art himself and needed no other calling card. Aside from a few high-end artists in Chicago, Balthazar was the best tattoo artist in the state.

He always insisted his talents were wasted on Dean and his measly linked chain. When all this was done – when Dean finished school, when he no longer felt the urge to hurt himself, when he had a job and a place of his own, when Sam was in college – Dean had resolved to get something big and dramatic, something that truly did justice to Balthazar’s skills. He had no idea what that might be. He doubted he’d know until the time came.

“There you are,” said Balthazar as soon as Dean came in, the bells above the door ringing as he stepped within. An unsaid _finally_ was implied by Balthazar’s tone.

“I’m ten minutes early,” said Dean dryly.

There was a long pause. Inside, the tattoo parlor was small and cozy, walls a deep red and hung with framed art of tattoos Balthazar had done. A display had tattoo flash art available for those with only a minimal idea of what they wanted, several couches made for a comfortable place for people to wait for the appointments. A curtain separated the entry from the room where Balthazar did his work.

“Might as well not have bothered,” Balthazar said, giving him a sidelong group as leafed through a pile of drawings on transfer paper. “You’ve read the disclaimer how many times? You should know better. No tattoos for omegas in heat.”

“Wha?” Dean said, feeling unusually stupid.

“I do not do ink for omegas during their heats,” repeated Balthazar, annunciating each word carefully as if Dean were an idiot, his accent crisp on each word. “The hormones mess with your judgment. If the courts say omegas can’t give legal consent to have sex while they’re in heat, you sure aren’t of sound mind to sign the tattoo waiver. I’m not having you come back in a week all angry with me because I did something you _thought_ you wanted.”

“That's impossible,” stammered Dean.

_I’m 19. I’ve never had a heat. No one presents this late. I just assumed..._

“Look, I’ve got a nose,” Balthazar rolled his eyes. “You can’t lie your way out of this.”

_...holy fuck he’s serious. Is that why I’ve felt so weird the last few days? The last few hours?_

“Oh, come on,” Dean managed. “It’s just another link in my chain, exactly the same as all the other links. Do you really think I’m gonna change my mind at this point?”

 _I really would have been an omega_.

“No, Dean.”

_If not for the surgery, I’d have been normal, I’d have slick and heats and maybe I could have kids like any other omega._

“I brought cash.”

_This isn’t all in my head._

The knowledge was a massive weight off his shoulders. He’d always doubted himself, always wondered if he’d have been an omega or beta or if, maybe, he would have been an alpha regardless of John and Dr. Alastair’s intervention.

 _Now I know_. _Just like I always thought, I would have been an omega_.

“Fine,” sighed Balthazar. “Let’s get it done. If you sue me, you Neanderthal...”

_Why wasn’t that good enough, dad?_

“You know I won’t,” promised Dean, counting out bills and setting them on the counter.

_Why wasn’t I good enough the way I was born?_

“I know, Dean,” said Balthazar, a bit more genuinely, “if I didn’t know, I wouldn’t be doing this for you. Get ready, I’ll be in momentarily.”

_What’s wrong with being omega like mom?_

Dean peeled of his shirt. The current series of links traced up his arm, dipped over his clavicle, draped over to his shoulder towards back. That’s where they’d left off; the next would be at the top of his spine. From there, the plan was for the chain to loop around his neck like a collar, be joined to the length from his arm by another broken lock before trailing down his chest. He hadn’t planned further than that. At the rate he’d been going, it’d be several years before he had to worry about that. If he was lucky, if he could get himself together, he might never need the chain to go further.

_This is what I’m meant to be. It feels weird, but it also feels so comfortable, so natural, so right._

Brushing the curtain aside, Dean settled into the familiar chair, getting comfortable, relaxing. A minute later, he heard the curtain swish aside as Balthazar stepped into the room. Dean lost himself in the familiar sounds as Balthazar prepared his inks and tattoo gun, the familiar feelings as cold spritzed his shoulder and the back of his neck, was wiped away as Balthazar cleaned the skin.

_Why couldn’t I be myself?_

A nail scratched over Dean’s flesh, shivering him, as Balthazar traced an outline of what he intended to do. At this point, Balthazar didn’t bother to draw a pattern, he knew what he had to do. Grabbing a razor, Balthazar cleared the fuzz from Dean’s skin and wiped the area clean once more. “You ready, Dean?”

_Why wasn’t who I really was ever enough?_

“Yes.”

_What am I going to do now?_

The first jolt of pain was euphoric, swamping out every other feeling, drowning his thoughts. The gun tracing the outline of an oval along his flesh, stinging as it went, cleansing his mind. This was what he needed today. This was what he craved.

He could own who he was. He could deal with his anxiety and his fears. He could weather this heat. He could talk things over with Dr. Barnes later. He could restrain himself from cutting. He could be there for Sammy. He could build a new home with Jody and Bobby. He could finish his education and work for Dr. Moseley. He could make friends with new people, even the two alluring, out of reach twins. It wasn’t always easy, but he could live his life on his own terms. He just had to keep fighting.

 _It’s gonna be okay_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this answers some of the questions I got after the previous chapter - and opens up some new ones... ;)
> 
> If Dean's behavior this chapter seems strange in contrast to the previous chapter...well, in my head the days leading up to a heat are basically PMS times 10 or so, and I know my PMS always makes me a volatile emotional mess, so...yeah. :) Hormonal Dean is hormonal.


	4. Thursday, September 27th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It occurred to me, the calendar might be causing some confusion...from now on I’ll include days of the week, cause I think it’ll be clearer. For the dates so far:
> 
> Chapter 1 (Prologue) was on Thursday, January 24th, 2008  
> Chapter 2, Jimmy’s Point of View was on Wednesday, September 12th, 2012; Dean’s Point of View was on Wednesday, September 19th, 2012  
> Chapter 3, Jimmy’s Point of View was on Saturday, September 22nd, 2012; Dean’s Point of View was on Tuesday, September 25th, 2012.
> 
> Reminder that Dean’s multi-presenter meetings are held weekly on Wednesdays.
> 
> Warning for minor dubious consent in this chapter.

**Chapter 4: Thursday, September 27 th**

Jimmy’s jaw hurt from smiling. Normally, the ache in his cheeks was a feeling he hated, meant he’d spent days putting on a false front of happiness for the doctors and media who felt that he and Cassie’s genitalia were any of their damn business. This week, though, nothing could bring him down and the smile was genuine. His heat was fading, but he and Cassie had hardly gotten out of bed all weekend and in between classes had retreated to the privacy of their dorm room. Their sheets absolutely _reeked_ of slick and sweat and come and sex and it was disgusting and Jimmy fucking _loved it_ , even though it meant he was spending his free afternoon doing laundry. He’d never seen Cassie come so undone before, over and over, had never felt that way himself. Their bond was fully in place, a connection that enhanced every touch, heightened every shared experience, amplified Jimmy’s ability to scent his brother to the point that he could close his eyes and find his way to Cassie even in a crowd. They’d only parted when their class schedules had necessitated it, and the gentle smile with which Cassie greeted him every time they reunited was heart-meltingingly perfect.

_I didn’t think I could love him more. I had no idea. How much more incredible might being with Cassie feel in a year, in five years, in ten years? I can’t even imagine._

Hands down, the past five days had been the best of his life.

The buzzer on the dryer sounded and, simultaneously, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Bending down to pull the dried sheets and undergarments into their laundry basket, he reached into his pocket and checked his messages.

_Cassie (3:45 PM): I’m done with class. Are you done with the laundry?_

One-handed, he tapped out his reply, _“Yes, just need to make our beds.”_ With the other hand, he hefted the basket and headed up to their dorm room. The building was large, the laundry room in the basement, the wait for the elevator stupidly long.

_Cassie (3:47 PM): Do you still want to visit Dean?_

He and Cassie had been surprised to arrive at the multi-presenters meeting the previous night to the discovery that Dean wasn’t there. Since they’d seen Dean on Tuesday, he’d come down sick badly enough that Sam was spending staying with Benny. Nothing more was said on the matter and the meeting had proceeded in his absence, Charlie moderating. Without Dean there, the event had seemed flatter, though they still had fun. It smelled less like chocolate, too, which was a disappointment.

_Jimmy (3:48 PM): Hell yeah. Why don’t you stop by the dining hall and grab some soup for him?_

_Cassie (3:50 PM): Of course. Anything else you think he might like?_

Stepping from the elevator onto their floor, Jimmy emerged into the white-painted hallways regularly interrupted by decorated doors labeled with the names of those who lived within. At mid-afternoon, many rooms stood open, the hallways filled with the quiet sounds of TV and music, conversations and games and studying, and a shrill woman arguing loudly and one-sidedly. People moved between rooms, some bearing bags, heading towards class or back to their rooms, others dressed in their pajamas or wrapped in towels and toting their shower things. A group gathered around a video game groaned loudly in unison as Jimmy walked past their door, he glanced over to see a splatter of blood and the words _Game Over_ emblazoned on a screen. As he walked by, they argued over who would get the controllers next.

A man in a suit was standing in front of Jimmy and Cassie’s door.

“Excuse me,” Jimmy said, digging in his pocket for his keys.

The man turned, giving Jimmy a winning smile, and his stomach sank. Why hadn’t it struck him as instantly strange that a nicely-dressed adult was randomly in the dorm hallway? Of course there was nothing random about it. Of course it wasn’t a coincidence that the person was outside of Jimmy and Cassie’s door. Of _course_ it was fucking Dick Roman.

“Fuck off,” Jimmy amended.

“Your parents told me you and your brother weren’t interested in being part of the Movement any longer,” Roman said smoothly. Furious, Jimmy stared him down as coldly as he could. Jimmy hated how the man managed to make the word ‘movement’ sound like some kind of God-given mission. Jimmy hated Roman’s expensive suits bought with the money donated by those stupid enough to buy the crock of shit pedaled by _Raise Your Hands_. Roman’s charity advocated the role of life experiences in determining presentation – specifically, the bullshit belief that a child’s presentation type could be completely altered by how they were raised. Their claims were unsubstantiated by any credible scientific evidence, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have dozens of doctors who’d voiced support, didn’t mean that they didn’t have hundreds of thousands of people around the country who were desperate to believe that they could make choices and decisions that would enable them to have children who presented as alpha, beta or omega based on their parents’ wishes. Those who followed all of _Raise Your Hands_ tenants and ended up with the child they wanted were happy to crow victorious about the virtues of the program; those who didn’t have such luck tended to quietly fade into the background to hide their embarrassment. The result was a depressing array of doctored, skewed statistics showing how “effective” _Raise Your Hands_ was.

As let down as Lilith and Merv had been not to have their twins be alphas, the disappointment had been mitigated when doctors from ‘the Movement’ had found them and suggested that the boys could be famous for their differences. Suddenly, the “family problem” that had to be kept quiet, an embarrassing fluke that was being excused as _God’s plan_ that _we must pray as a family for the serenity to accept since we cannot change it_ , had become appropriate fodder for discussion across the country. Jimmy had lost count of how many times he and Cassie had been interviewed for articles and television shows and documentaries and fundraisers. Not that they were expected to say much: mostly, they sat around and looked pretty while Lilith and Merv discussed their parenting strategies – strategies that, according to the Novaks, were those advocated by _Raise Your Hands_ and bore only tangential relationship to how they had _actually_ been raised. The older he’d gotten, the more fed up he’d become, the more miserable he’d seen Cassie grow, the more Jimmy had wondered how much money it had taken for his parents to sell out their own sons and make a spectacle of their sexuality and presentation. It was impossible to guess. None of that money ever trickled down to Jimmy, Cassie, or their other siblings.

Undeterred by the nastiest look Jimmy could muster, Roman smiled at him, brilliantly white teeth gleaming in the dim light of the hall.

“Go fuck yourself, Dick,” Jimmy suggested.

“I appreciate that now that you are of age, you no longer wish Mr. and Mrs. Novak to be responsible for your publicity,” said Roman. “There are some great opportunities coming up – for example, our annual charity ball is December 12th. It wouldn’t be the same without you and your brother, and I’m sure we can arrange satisfactory compensation for your appearance there.”

 _If we’re going to break with our parents we’re going to need the money. I won’t put Cassie through all of that again, but I could do it, I could go alone and take the check and use it to pay for our tuition and room and board, pay for our books, pay for_ _everything, maybe even get something nice for Cassie..._

_...no. We’re not out of options. Abnormal can help. We don’t need to turn to these assholes. We don’t need to come “Exhibit A” again, like some fucking zoo animals._

“No.”

“Come now, it’s very inconsiderate of you to decline my offer without even discussing it with your brother,” chided Roman. “Perhaps I should speak with him independently, he might be more amenable.”

Clenching his jaw, Jimmy closed his eyes to collect himself. “Mr. Roman,” he said with all the calm he could muster. “I will of course talk to Cassie about your offer. Unlike you, I don’t need to keep secrets in order to accomplish my goals. And because he and I are straight with each other, I already know that his answer will be the same as mine.” Opening his eyes, he saw a pensive look on Roman’s face. He took a deep breath, fighting down choking anger. “Further, I can _guarantee_ this: if you approach my brother, if you harass or bother him, if you do _anything_ that makes him unhappy, I will _never_ work for you again, I will convince him to never work for you again, you will not get even this close to us for the rest of our lives.”

“Big talk,” Roman said, stepping graciously aside so Jimmy could finally unlock his door. “I’m glad to hear that you are considering my request. I don’t need your answer yet, there’s plenty of time. Talk it over with Castiel. You know how to get in touch with me when you make your decision.” As if there was any doubt of the outcome, Roman reached in his breast pocket, pulled out a business card, and placed it atop Jimmy’s laundry. “Have a good day, Mr. Novak.”

“Burn in hell,” Jimmy suggested helpfully, dodging into his dorm room and slamming it closed in Roman’s face. His confident word were belied by the desperate way he fumbled at the lock to make sure Roman couldn’t follow. He had to warn Cassie and meet up with him as soon as possible. The bed could get made later; he wasn’t letting Cassie out of his sight.

_Jimmy (4:02 PM): Dick Roman is on campus. Wants us to work for him. Where are you?_

Hastily, Jimmy grabbed the card and pocketed it. Dumping the laundry out on his bed, he sorted it quickly. He didn’t give a shit about the sheets and boxers, but he didn’t want to risk stepping into the hallway to find Roman still standing there, waiting for him, maybe following him.

_Castiel (4:02 PM): I’m in line at the dining hall. Do you want anything?_

_Jimmy (4:04 PM): No, I’m good._

He couldn’t imagine eating anything, his heart raced and his stomach ached. The happy afterglow of the week struggled against his new plethora of worries. He wasn’t smiling any more.

_Jimmy (4:04 PM): Wait at the Abnormal table, I’ll meet you there._

Jimmy counted slowly to ten, taking deep breaths between each number. When he felt calmer, when his heart had slowed, when a couple minutes more had passed, he stood and left his room, grateful to find Roman gone. He didn’t worry about where Roman had gone, not yet. They could figure out how to proceed once they were together. For now, he had to make sure that Cassie wasn’t alone and vulnerable.

By the time he got to the dining hall, his self-control was largely restored. Cassie was sitting with Garth and Aaron making uncomfortable small talk and looking around nervously. Relief broke out beautifully on Cassie’s face when he caught sight of Jimmy, and Jimmy felt matching relief soothe his remaining anxiety. Everything that seemed insurmountable when they were alone seemed solvable when they were together. Everything that made him feel weak when he was on his own could be faced with strength when he could focus on the need to protect Cassie, on the need to be strong for Cassie, on the need to be worthy of Cassie’s affection.

“Everything okay?” asked Cassie hesitantly. Jimmy resisted the urge to wrap his brother up reassuringly in his arms, to say without words that everything was fantastic and perfect as long as they were together.

“Yeah, yeah, I dealt with it – I’ll fill you in later,” he said as he gave a wave and a smile to the two others sitting there. “Ready to go?”

“Sure. See you guys later!”

“See ya, Castiel,” said Aaron, giving Cassie a flirty wave and nervous smile that Cassie didn’t notice. Castiel’s obliviousness was too damn cute. After a moment’s debate, Jimmy decided he could safely ruffle his brother’s hair in public, and did so. Cassie shot him an adorable scowl, belied by the affection in his eyes, and Jimmy hastily withdrew his hand before either of them did something more to expose themselves. He shot Aaron a look, though, in case the possessiveness of Jimmy’s gesture had escaped the narrow-faced man.

The late September weather was lovely and warm. Fall hadn’t set in yet, the trees were still green, the grass still growing, and there was a hint of cold in the air that served to remind everyone to enjoy the weather while they could. The student body took Mother Nature’s suggestion to heart, and people were sprawled in groups wherever they could find a patch of sunny grass, strolling the paths between the buildings, laughing and joking in short sleeves and shorts. A few brave souls even wore sandals.

It was impossible to stay upset with Cassie at his side and the weather so fine. The walk to the family dorms was a short one. Cassie carefully held a closed container of soup with a roll balanced atop, a meal suitable for someone sick. As they walked, Jimmy filled him in on Roman’s offer. Unsurprisingly, Cassie agreed with him.

“We should talk to Professor Shurley,” was Cassie’s suggestion as soon as Jimmy was done. “Is Roman even allowed on campus? In our dorm rooms? We might be able to call campus security if he harasses us again.” There was a pause. Jimmy glanced over to see Cassie giving him a sheepish grin. “You’re very intimidating when you want to be, brother, but I suspect that Roman didn’t take you very seriously. He knows there’s very little we can do alone to prevent him doing as he will. What he doesn’t know is that we’re not alone anymore.”

“I know, but it felt good to tell Dick off,” said Jimmy, sighing. “We’ll talk to Shurley.”

The conversation brought them to the main entrance of the family dorm. Unlike the other campus buildings, this one was set up like a typical apartment building. Beside the locked front doors there was a directory with call buttons for each apartment. Scanning over it, Jimmy spotted CAMPBELL on the list and buzzed up. There was no answer.

“Maybe he’s resting,” Cassie said. “We should have called ahead.”

“Do you have his number?” asked Jimmy dryly. Cassie shook his head. “Me neither. It’s fine. If he’s not up for company, we’ll drop the soup off and leave.”

A tall man walked out of the building, held the door open for them politely, and they gratefully went inside. It took a few moments to get their bearings within, but soon enough they were standing at a blank white door, identical to every other blank white door save for a name plate with Sam and Dean’s last name on it. Even standing outside the door Jimmy could smell the sweet smell of chocolate and milk and marshmallow. Cassie reached up and knocked firmly.

“Go ‘way, Sammy,” snarled the familiar gruff voice from within. “I told you, I’m _fine_.”

“It’s Castiel and Jimmy,” said Cassie, words guttural in his throat. Surprised, Jimmy glanced at his brother. The intensity of Cassie’s gaze as he stared at the door was shocking and strange, as if Cassie was trying to rip the barrier apart with his eyes.

“Shit,” Dean snapped loudly. “Whaddaya want?”

“Charlie said you were sick, and we knew Sam wasn’t with you, so we thought we’d bring you something hot to eat,” Jimmy explained. “We can drop it off if you’re not up for company.”

Dean’s scent surged in strength, leaking beneath the door. Cassie growled deep in his throat. The silence following his words was oppressive. As the moment stretched out, Jimmy wondered if Dean was going to say anything or ignore them. _What, did we offend him by offering help? Or embarrass him?_

 _God, that smells good_.

The lock on the door clicked, the knob turned, the door cracked open. The smell of cocoa thickened further.

Cassie surged forward, shoved the door open and launched himself into the apartment. The door slammed hard against the wall and Dean groaned as Cassie flattened him to the ground, soup tumbling and spilling on the carpet, bread rolling away. Too stunned to react, Jimmy could only stare.

“Cassie, what the hell—”

Holy _shit_ Dean smelled like fucking _heaven_. So did Cassie. They both smelled absolutely fucking spectacular, the scent going straight to Jimmy’s head, straight to his cock.

“Alpha?” asked Dean, desperation in his voice.

“Basically,” growled Cassie.

“Knot me,” Dean demanded. “ _Please_.”

_Holy shit, he’s in heat._

Snarling, Cassie buried his nose against Dean’s exposed neck, scented him deeply, mouthed aggressively at Dean’s skin. With a shake, Jimmy got a hold of himself and stepped into the room, slammed the door shut, put a hand on each of Cassie’s shoulders and hauled him off Dean. Hissing, Cassie rounded on Jimmy.

“No,” snapped Jimmy. The word made no impact on the wild look in Cassie’s eye, his heavy breathing, his obvious erection.

“Brother, the way he _smells_!”

“I know, okay? I know.” Jimmy agreed whole-heartedly. His body was reacting involuntarily, his ass growing rapidly slick, his cock achingly hard.

Dean leapt from the floor and tried to grab hold of Cassie. Jimmy barely interjected his body between them.

“You want me instead?” Dean smirked suggestively, rubbing against Jimmy’s body.

 _Fuck, yes, I do, but that’s never gonna happen. I’m Cassie’s, and Cassie is_ mine _._

Even with his eyes sunken tiredly, his skin pale, Dean was gorgeous. He smelled unspeakably good. His dark-tipped hair was spiked in every direction, the rings through his lip teased at Jimmy’s skin as Dean nipped his neck, the undershirt and boxers Dean wore scarce hid his fine muscled physique.

_My arms around Cassie, Cassie’s around me, Dean sandwiched between us, Cassie’s knot buried deep within him, Dean’s knot caught in my ass, that gruff voice begging each of us in turn for release, for touch, for kisses and caresses, begging us for everything._

Jimmy shuddered and pushed the image away. Barely restrained, Cassie inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.

“ _Mine_ ,” whispered Cassie. “My omegas.”

“Cassie,” Jimmy shouted in his brother’s ear. Cassie started, stopped struggling. Dean rutted his erection against Jimmy’s hip, panting. God, that was distracting. “ _No_.”

“But...he wants a knot,” Cassie whined. “You don’t mind, do you?”

_Do I mind?_

“I don’t mind,” murmured Dean. “We can share.”

_Sharing sounds pretty fucking good, actually._

“It doesn’t matter if _I_ mind,” Jimmy spoke quickly while his brother was momentarily lucid enough to understand. With how good Dean smelled, he must be irresistible to an alpha, even with the rut suppressant Cassie was taking. He was nearly irresistible to Jimmy. “When he’s not in heat, _he’ll_ mind.”

“You don’t know that,” said Cassie sullenly.

“No I won’t,” Dean agreed fervently. “Just need to be filled, just need something, _anything_. God, I’m so hot it’s driving me crazy. _Please_.”

“See?” Cassie pleaded. “Come on, don’t be jealous. I’ll always love you, but Jimmy, he needs our help!”

“I do,” Dean whispered. He wrapped an arm around Jimmy’s chest and rolled his hips against Jimmy’s ass with increasing urgency. Flowing slick was rapidly destroying Jimmy’s boxers, the tail end of his own heat sparking in reaction to Dean’s wonderful scent, the temptation of Dean’s hard cock rubbing against his crack. “You smell so fucking _good_ , it’s fucking _unreal_ , and you’re fucking _mated_ , seriously, like, hottest fucking thing _ever_.” Dean groaned, grinding against him. Desire and pleasure rolled through Jimmy and he bit back a moan.

_Why am I fighting this? Cassie wants it. I want it. Dean wants it. What’s the problem?_

Bullshit. Jimmy had been in heat. If not for Cassie to help him, he’d have said whatever he had to, anything at all, to get a knot from any alpha he found that didn’t smell completely nauseating. Dean had been in heat since at least the previous night and presumably had no one to knot him. Jimmy had never gone more than a few hours of a heat without getting what he needed, but even that had left him burning with desire; he could only imagine how desperate Dean must feel. The need easily over-powered rational thought. The effect an unmated omega in heat had on alphas was equally instinctual and ridiculous. The only aspect of this situation that was weird was that Cassie was interested even though he and Jimmy were mated. Dean couldn’t control himself and had no ability to state what he _actually_ wanted. If Jimmy stepped aside, if Jimmy gave in to the desires searing him, if Jimmy surrendered to Cassie’s attempts to reach for Dean, if Jimmy participated, it would be tantamount to rape.

“Dean,” Jimmy barked. “Go to your room.”

“ _Please_.” Hot breath ghosted over Jimmy’s neck, the desperation of that single word matched by the urgency with which Dean moved against him.

“ _Now_ , Dean.”

“Jimmy—”

“Cassie, I’m locking you in the bathroom.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Dean, I swear to God if you don’t get off me I _will_ leave you to deal with this alone,” Jimmy said with all the authority he could muster. “Get to your bed. I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Will you knot me?”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m an _omega_ , Dean.” _An omega who might have a functional knot? But that only happened once. Either way, there’s no way I’m knotting him, but maybe I can help without doing anything that invasive._ “ _Go_.”

With a pained noise, Dean tore himself away and moved. Jimmy’s back felt cold and damp with him gone, soaked with sweat and slick.

“I’ll knot you,” said Cassie desperately.

“ _You will not_ ,” said Jimmy, steering his brother towards the bathroom, visible through an open door across the living room.

“But Jimmy!”

“Castiel,” he said firmly, pushing Cassie into the small room. “Imagine if it were me. Imagine if I were in heat and you weren’t there. Imagine some other alpha came in. Imagine, while I was desperate and fucking high on hormones, I begged for that alpha’s knot. Imagine that alpha gave it to me. How would you feel? How do you think I’d feel afterwards?”

“I’d _fucking kill them_ ,” vowed Cassie implacably. “If anyone lays a hand on you or on Dean, they’re dead. You’re _mine_.”

“We can talk about where Dean fits in to this later,” promised Jimmy, hoping Cassie was actually taking in any of what he was saying. “When he’s no longer in heat, I swear you and I will have this conversation we’ll have it with him. But until then...”

Taking a slow breath, letting it out, Cassie nodded. “Alright. Fine.” Jimmy put a hand on the door to pull it shut as he left the room. A grip on his shoulder arrested him. “Jimmy?” He stopped and glanced at his brother. Cassie looked lost, cheeks flushed, pupils dark with desire, lips parted around quick breaths. “I don’t know if I can help myself. Block the door.”

“I will,” said Jimmy gently, turning and brushing a kiss over Cassie’s lips. “It’s not your fault; he _does_ smell amazing. I’ll take care of him, and then I’ll take care of you, okay?” Cassie nodded, pulled his hand away, lowered the toilet seat and sat, curling in on himself.

Pushing in the lock, as irrelevant as doing so was considering it was meant to be opened from inside the room, Jimmy closed the door. Jimmy went to the dining room table, brushed some mail and a dirty plate to the floor, turned the table on its side and pushed it against the bathroom door. If Cassie was determined, he’d be able to get around the obstacle, but he had faith in Cassie’s willpower. Now that Cassie realized what he’d been contemplating, once he had a door between him and the intoxicating smell of Dean’s hormones, he’d be able to restrain himself.

That just left Dean to deal with. What the _hell_ could Jimmy do to satisfy Dean that didn’t require consent?

...nothing. There was nothing. Fuck, letting Dean rut against him _already_ crossed the line, even if Dean did initiate that contact.

_I’ll just have to see what he does, what he says, and do my best to respect his boundaries even when he can’t do so. What a mess._

Dean was curled on his bed, legs tucked to his chest, head buried against his knees, hand moving vigorously as he jerked himself off. Every breath escaped him vocally, his hair was matted with sweat, and Jimmy wasn’t sure if he actually smelled _even fucking better_ than he had before or if leaving Dean’s immediate presence and then returning meant that the scent was hitting Jimmy again like it was the first time. Either way, it was fucking intoxicating, dangerously so.

“Dean,” Jimmy said gently. Dean jerked his head up. His gorgeous green eyes were nearly swallowed by black pupils, sweat curling around his face, expression slack with pleasure and desperation.

“Please,” Dean whispered. In his undershirt, Jimmy could see the tattoo of a chain curling around Dean’s shoulder and around to his back, see the outline of nipple piercings against the thin fabric. “I know, I know, you’re an omega, you’re with Cas, but _please_ , anything, I need _anything_.”

“I know, Dean,” Jimmy said gently, settling beside Dean on the bed. _Wait, he knows I’m with Cassie – shit, did he say before_ _that he knew we were mated? No one else has been able to tell, no one else has said anything, how does_ he _know?_ Jimmy pushed the thought away. There was no getting a clear answer with Dean while he was in such a state. For a moment, Dean froze, staring at Jimmy, even the hand around his cock stilling except for a visible tremor that whispered against the fabric of his boxers. Then, with a cry, Dean unfolded and threw himself against Jimmy, wrapped his legs around Jimmy’s waist, his arms around Jimmy’s shoulders, buried his face against Jimmy’s neck. Dean’s hips jerked against him raggedly. Unsure what was best to do, Jimmy didn’t move, let Dean cling to him, let Dean hump his leg.

“You smell so good,” Dean whispered. Moaning, shifting, Dean found a new angle, his cock hard against Jimmy’s leg, and continued urgently. “Is this real? Are you real?”

“I’m real, Dean,” murmured Jimmy reassuringly, wrapping an arm around Dean’s back. Fuck, but this was hot, Dean’s scent, Dean’s desperation. Jimmy was achingly hard, it was all he could do to ignore the temptation Dean represented. “You’re fucking delicious.”

“Why won’t you fuck me?” asked Dean plaintively.

“I want to,” admitted Jimmy. _God, it’s true. I’ve never had much interest in penetrating Cassie, we just fit so_ well _together when he knots me, I’d not dream of changing a thing. But with Dean?_

_Am I ‘with’ Dean? No...no, of course not._

_But fuck do I want to be_.

“Let’s get you through this surge, then we can talk, okay?”

Dean didn’t answer, only shook his head and whimpered as he ground his cock urgently against Jimmy’s thigh. Through the thin fabric of Dean’s boxers, the thicker denim of Jimmy’s pants, he could feel Dean’s swollen knot. Hesitantly, Jimmy reached around with his free hand, placed it on the small of Dean’s back. Moaning, Dean wiggled his ass back against Jimmy’s hand, begging with his body.

 _It’s wrong, I know it’s wrong, but if_ nothing _fills him, he’ll never feel better_.

“Dean, do you have any toys?”

 _He must, he must have a dildo, maybe something with an inflatable knot. Every omega has_ something.

By way of answer, Jimmy got a vigorously shaken head and an ass pressed even further back, even as Dean managed, barely, to keep dragging his hardness against Jimmy’s flesh. Amazed, Jimmy could stroke Dean’s back soothingly. Even Jimmy owned a couple toys: a long, thick dildo, a smaller vibrator. Smuggling them into the house had been a challenge, smuggling them to college even harder, but he’d never regretted owning them.

Accompanied by whimpers, Dean’s mouth worked against Jimmy’s neck, mumbling something incoherent. It didn’t matter that Jimmy couldn’t hear the words, the tone and Dean’s body language made it clear Dean was pleading desperately with him.

_This is the only way I can help him._

_Shit._

“I’m sorry, Dean,” he whispered. Slipping a hand into Dean’s soaked boxers, Jimmy’s fingers slid easily along Dean’s crack, found his loose, dripping pucker and stretched him open. Dean fucking _convulsed_ in his arms with a broken cry of pleasure. The smell of cocoa exploded in intensity; from the direction of the bathroom Jimmy could hear nails scraping at the door. A moan ghosted from Jimmy’s lips, the feel of Dean thrashing against him, dragging that hard cock against Jimmy’s body, was incredibly intense. Sinking his fingers in as deeply as he could, Jimmy thrust hard. Dean sobbed thanks against Jimmy’s neck, dissipating much of Jimmy’s guilt.

_Even if this isn’t what he wants when he feels better, he’ll remember how much he wanted it now, how much he needed it now. Sure, he’ll be embarrassed, who wouldn’t be, but hopefully he’ll not remember with regret, hopefully I’m not doing him harm when all I want to do is help._

He wanted to do _so much more_ than help with scant fingers, but he wouldn’t, he would _not_ let himself do any more than what he was doing now.

Adding a third finger, Jimmy spread Dean wide, pulsed in and out of his body, channel slick and gooey. Instinct screamed for Jimmy to suck his fingers clean, to suck Dean clean, _he smells so fucking good, imagine how he’ll taste_ , but Jimmy pushed it all away.

“Yes,” Dean moaned. “Thank fucking _God,_ yes – thank you, Jimmy, thank you, thank you...” With a sharp thrust back against Jimmy’s hand, forward against Jimmy’s thigh, Dean’s movements dissolved into rutting spasms as he came. Even Dean’s orgasm was fucking spectacular, long and drawn out like an alpha’s – _he is an alpha, he’s both, God that must be fucking confusing for him_ – surge after surge as he moaned and writhed and panted against Jimmy, fucked himself back against Jimmy’s hand.

Finally, finally, it was over.

 _Throw him down on the bed, pull his boxers off, fill up that tight hole with my cock, how fucking_ good _would that feel? I want to know, I want to feel him, I want to taste him_.

 _No_.

Pushing through the fog of desire blanketing his thoughts, Jimmy held Dean close. His body felt good, warm, Dean’s panting breaths pressing his hard chest against Jimmy’s. He’d never held anyone other than Cassie, had never wanted to hold anyone other than Cassie, but with Dean it felt _right_.

_Cassie against my back, thrusting; Dean in my lap riding my cock..._

_Concentrate, Jimmy_.

“How do you feel?” Jimmy asked gently as, incrementally, he felt Dean calm.

“Tired,” murmured Dean. “I haven’t been able to...It’s been hours, I think, it feels like it’s been days, maybe it has been, I don’t even know. I couldn’t do enough. It wouldn’t stop. I didn’t know what to do. Thank you.”

“Get some rest,” Jimmy suggested, attempting to disentangle himself from Dean’s embrace. Dean shook his head, clung to him more tightly. “I have to check on my brother.”

“Are you really here?” Dean asked uncertainly. Jimmy laughed, and some of the tension drained from Dean. “Are you really mated?”

“Yes, we are.” Dean shuddered, wiggled against him and moaned. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“That is so damn hot,” whispered Dean. Blood surged in Jimmy’s ears, his fantasies started to spin out of control, but he quashed them. “If I let you go...will you come back?”

“Do you want me to come back?” Jimmy said, running a soothing hand down Dean’s back.

“I do, I really do – not just because I’m in heat,” Dean nodded. “I know I’m fucking crazy right now, still pretty damn sure you’re a hallucination—” Jimmy laughed again. “—but I want you here with me. I need you with me.”

“If you get some rest, I’ll speak with Cassie, go get a few things, and come back, okay?”

There was a long pause.

“Okay,” said Dean. Unprompted, Dean unwrapped himself from Jimmy and rolled sideways onto the bed. Looking down at him, Jimmy couldn’t help but smile, Dean looked so sweet, so vulnerable, so trusting, so _beautiful_. Better, he sounded like he had enough of a hold on himself that Jimmy could believe that what Dean said wasn’t just raging hormones screaming for satisfaction. That was surely still a factor, but Dean was clearly lucid where he hadn’t been before.

“Sleep now,” said Jimmy gently, rising and pulling the blanket over Dean. Dean nodded, tugged his pillow to his head, and closed his eyes. Satisfied, Jimmy turned the light off and closed the door behind him.

The instant the bedroom was closed, he had a palm on his cock through his jeans, spiking bliss behind his eyes. Fuck, was he hard and hot and utterly relieved not to have to repress his desires any longer.

 _Cassie. I need Cassie. Jesus, what is going_ on _with the three of us, this is unbelievable...it’s not just that Dean is in heat, it’s that it’s_ Dean _and he smells like perfection and he’s gorgeous and Cassie thinks so too._

_Do mates come in sets of three? Is that even possible?_

Heavy with need, Jimmy shouldered the table away from the door and jogged the handle to the bathroom door, finding it still locked.

“Cassie?”

The lock popped, the door pulled open, Cassie snarled, latched a strong hand to Jimmy’s arm, pulled him into the bathroom, slammed the door closed, forced Jimmy’s face and chest against the wall. Gasping, Jimmy’s knees went out, but he didn’t fall; Cassie was so firm against his back, rutting hard, that Cassie supported Jimmy.

“Jimmy,” Cassie panted. “Been losing my mind in here, Jimmy.” Cassie buried his nose against Jimmy’s neck where Dean’s face had been. “ _Damn_. You smell good, you both smell good, you smell like him and you smell like you and it’s unbelievable.” Thrusting hard against Jimmy’s ass, Cassie reached around, tore the button on Jimmy’s jeans open, jerked Jimmy’s pants down to his knees without bothering with the zipper. Air hit his slickened ass and sent a chill shivering through Jimmy’s body. Cassie’s cock was out, Jimmy hadn’t even noticed, and pressing against him, pressing into him, without hesitation. Jimmy moaned helplessly, struggling to find the strength to meet his brother, not to simply melt in pleasure and satisfaction.

_This is my knot. Cassie is my alpha._

_...but if Dean wanted to share..._

Fingers curled around Jimmy’s cock, stroking him hard, stroking him in time to Cassie’s desperate, urgent thrusts.

“So good, so good, so damn good,” Cassie moaned endlessly in his ear, thrusting into him with as much desperate need as he had at the height of Jimmy’s heat days before. His knot was growing quickly, catching teasingly and gloriously on Jimmy’s rim.

“He’s so delicious, Cassie,” Jimmy moaned.

“I want to taste him.” Cassie pulled Jimmy’s hips back so he could thrust more deeply and sucked on the places along Jimmy’s neck where Dean had smeared him with saliva. “Want to taste both of you together. It’s all I can think about, Jimmy, him and you, both of you, my omegas.”

“Me too...” Cassie’s cock dragged sharply over his prostate and Jimmy wailed as pleasure obliterated any thought except how much more of the same he needed. There were no more words. Straining backwards, Jimmy met every thrust as Cassie gave in to the need coursing through him, his knot swelling, catching, growing full in the space of just a few thrusts.

They came together, Cassie’s hand on Jimmy’s cock, Jimmy’s ass clenching around Cassie’s knot, breathing desperately, sweat soaking their clothing. Knotted together, they sank to the cold tile ground, gasping, Cassie draped over his back, Jimmy leaning his forehead against wall.

_Cassie and I together? Unbelievably good._

_Cassie and Dean and I? Better. Somehow, it’s even better. And we haven’t even all touched each other yet._

_Holy shit._

_God, I hope Dean wants this when he’s out of his heat._

* * *

A knock on the door woke Dean to his darkened bedroom. The smell of sex was thick in the air, his skin felt sticky and disgusting, his body ached. Slick pooled within him, shuddering heat through his body, dizzying him. Rolling over to get away from the damp spot on which he’d slept, he buried his face in the mattress, inhaled deeply and moaned as he found the spot where Jimmy’s slick had soaked into his bedding.

_God, it was real. That wasn’t just a dream._

He’d lost track of how long it had been since his heat started – Tuesday night, that was when he’d gotten his tattoo, when he’d returned home and had to masturbate again. He’d stroked himself off twice in one day, when normally he rarely masturbated once a week. The next morning he’d felt sick and hot but had forced himself to class. There’d been no moderating the Abnormal meeting though – even had he felt up for it, he couldn’t stand the looks he was getting everywhere he went on campus. Everyone could smell his heat on him, omegas eying him sympathetically, betas protectively, alphas hungrily. Hardly anyone just ignored him, and he’d felt like everywhere he went he was under a spot lot, filling his thoughts with paranoia about his past, about his father, about all the lies he’d told and what might happen to him if the truth were discovered. Aside from Sam, only Dr. Barnes and Dr. Moseley knew even part of the truth. When he’d retreated to his room on Wednesday night, devoured by the heat and need coursing through his veins, he’d vowed to go to Campus Health Services the next day and see if there was anything they could do to help.

Was it Wednesday night still? Was it Thursday morning? The twins had come over, he knew now that wasn’t a dream. On Tuesday, he’d been relieved, even excited, that he was in heat. Having dealt with it for maybe 24 hours he wasn’t excited any more. He was desperate.

 _Knot, I want a knot, I can feel the need rising again. What am I going to do? I begged Cas to do it for me, begged Jimmy even though he’s a fucking omega! And they_ are _mated. It was wrong of me to ask them to be unfaithful to each other, to let Jimmy touch me like that. I should have been stronger, should have found it in myself to manage alone._

_God, I want them so much, want them even more than before._

Dean took a deep breath, filling his nose, his mouth, with the tang of citrus.

_If Jimmy comes back, I’ll send him away._

There was another knock on the door.

Forcing himself upright, Dean adjusted his undershirt, thought to adjust his boxers only to discover them sodden and disgusting.

“Just a minute,” he shouted. His voice was rough and dry, his throat hurt. When had he last eaten or had something to drink? He couldn’t remember.

 _I could go for some pie_.

Stripping off his shorts, unsteady on his feet, he dug in his chest of drawers and pulled out a pair of pajama bottoms.

_I should text Sammy and let him know I’m doing alright._

Their living room was a mess, papers scattered on the floor, their table by the bathroom door, the chairs in disarray. He had no memory of moving things, but he didn’t have memory of much of anything other than his body feeling impossibly hot and heavy, his ass and thighs slickened and sticky, his cock painful and hard, his body begging him to knot someone, begging for him to be knotted. Just thinking about it made him tingle, encouraged the feelings initiated by scenting Jimmy on his bed to burgeon and grow. It wouldn’t be long before he was urgently in need once again. Walking across the room, he stepped on a cold wet spot on the carpet and shivered.

“Dean, you okay in there?” The voice through the door was a little dulled but recognizable as either Jimmy’s or Castiel’s – Jimmy, he thought. There was another rapid knock.

Dean seriously considered not answering.

_It was so nice when he held me, so nice when he touched, so nice when...oh God, I was fucking dry humping him, wasn’t I?_

“Dude, not answering won’t help, I already heard you,” Jimmy called. “I’ll break this door down. You made me promise to come back, I wasn’t just jerking you around when I said I’d be here.”

_Maybe if I let him in this time, he’ll fuck me._

With a sigh, Dean opened the door, unable to bring himself to look the beautiful twin in the eye.

 _At least Cas isn’t here also_.

“Hey, look at me,” said Jimmy gently. Scowling, Dean glanced up, took in a glimpse of tousled dark hair, eyes deep blue in the dimness of the room, wearing a t-shirt and jeans in defiance of fall. “Dean, I’m an omega, too. I know what you’re going through. I’ve been lucky, I...” He hesitated.

“You always had Cas to help you?” Speaking the words aloud made them more real, filled Dean’s head with images he couldn’t quell. His body ached for a touch, slick made a trail down his leg. Jimmy bit his lip, his eyes darkening.

“Does that bother you?” asked Jimmy.

“You asked me that before,” muttered Dean, stepping aside so that Jimmy could enter the room, closing the door behind him. “Should it?”

“My incestuous relationship with my twin brother? I think it’d bother most people.” Jimmy shied away from him, looked away, listlessly crossed the room and gathered the papers from the floor, carried them over to the kitchen counter.

 _God, he thinks I’m disgusting, he thinks I’m desperate, he thinks I’m an idiot who doesn’t even know how to deal with a heat_.

_Wait. No._

He’s _embarrassed._

 _I could kiss him right now. I could wrap my arms around him, rub against his body. I could push him down on my bed, pull those jeans over that gorgeous ass, knot that pert ass of him just like his brother does_...

“Right, so, um, have you had anything to eat?” asked Jimmy awkwardly. “When you’re in heat it’s easy to lose track of time and not take care of yourself properly. Oh, fuck, we didn’t clean up the soup when we left, did we? Where are the paper towels, I’ll take care of that now. After I get you something to drink, right...” Jimmy walked to the kitchenette, moved uncertainly, leaned first one way, took several steps another, jerked back around, uncertain and uncomfortable. Finally, he opened a cabinet, found plates, tried another to find boxes of dry goods, found cups in a third, filled a large plastic one with sink water and held the cup towards Dean hesitantly with raised eyebrows and a sad smile.

_The only thing I can’t figure out is if I rather fuck him or have him fuck me. We could do both..._

“Maybe you should leave,” said Dean, marshalling all the willpower he had.

Jimmy deflated, his shoulders slumping. “We’re both dreading anyone find out, and here you are, and you could just _tell_. We didn’t think anyone would be able to, no one has ever even be able to tell our scents apart, we figured there’d hardly been any change. Think whatever you want about us – but you do need help, Dean. If you won’t accept it from me, is there someone else I can call? Maybe Benny or Charlie or your brother...”

“I’ll manage on my own.”

“Like you were managing before we got here?” said Jimmy dryly. He offered the cup of water again insistently. Reluctant for no reason he could define, Dean took it, sipped slowly. The chill of it felt good through his scoured body, helped ease the dizziness starting to swim through his head. “What kind of omega doesn’t even have a dildo? Speaking of which...” Jimmy slipped a bag off his shoulder that Dean hadn’t noticed, reached within, and handed Dean a box. “I got you something.”

Through the clear plastic packaging, a long, thick, matte black cock nestled within. Dean swallowed hard, closed his eyes, tried to gather himself.

_Yes, perfect, he could work this inside me as I fuck into his ass. It’d be great._

“Uh, thanks, but seriously, you have to go,” said Dean, hoping the words didn’t come off as desperate as he felt.

“Wow, I really disgust you that much?” Jimmy managed to say it with a smile.

 _God fucking damn it I’m wearing fucking flannel pants can he_ not _see how damn hard I am right now? I’m sporting a fucking tent camp in my pants right now and he thinks I want him to leave because I got confirmation out that the two hottest, best smelling guys I’ve ever seen or smelled go at each other every fucking night?_

The cup of water slipped from his hand and splashed water all over the tiles and cabinets of the kitchenette. The dildo box clattered to the ground an instant later. Growling deep in his throat, Dean didn’t remember crossing the space between them, all he knew was that he was pressing Jimmy against the counter, kissing him urgently, messily, rutting against his crotch. This close, he could feel the matching erection that Jimmy’s jeans had hidden.

“You should _leave_ ,” snarled Dean, his hands roaming over Jimmy’s body. “ _Fuck_ you smell good.”

“Dean...”

“Can you be this fucking stupid?” Dean demanded. “After the stupid shit I said and did earlier, you really don’t think I want you and your brother both? Fuck, Jimmy...” Dean took a deep, shuddering breath, forced himself away from the other man. Jimmy had his fingers wrapped around the edge of the counter, his back arching back, staring at Dean as if he was surprised. “Remember when I fucking _begged_ your brother to knot me? When I begged _you_ to knot me? _You need to go, Jimmy_. I’ve got the toy, now, I’ll be fine.”

He backed away, feet slipping against the wet tiles as his ass, until he crossed onto carpeting and his back bumped one of the chairs.

“Please, Jimmy. I’m fine – I’m fine... _get out_.”

“You really are totally cool with us,” breathed Jimmy, his nostrils flaring. “Christ, that’s hot. Okay.” He took a shuddering inhale, let it out with a shiver. Leaning down, he picked up the packaged dildo, held it out to Dean. “Okay, Dean. Go, take the toy, take care of yourself. I’m going to clean up out here and get some food together for you.”

“I want to fuck you,” whispered Dean desperately, unable to make himself move, starving for the man standing feet away from him. “I don’t want to take care of myself, I want to take care of you. What would Cas say to that?”

“While we haven’t talked about it as much as we need to....” Jimmy gave him a look that was pure heat. “I think he’d want to join in. If you weren’t in heat that’s exactly what would have happened earlier. But we need to be sure – we need you to be in your right mind – we need all of us to be sane enough to say what we want, what we _really_ want. But Cassie and I – we’re pretty sure we really want you.”

Biting back a groan, Dean took another step back. “Jesus fucking _Christ_.”

“Take the dildo, Dean,” supplied Jimmy. “I’ll help you get through the next few days, and then we can talk. We can’t have these conversations while you’re in heat.”

Too stunned to argue the point further – _who needs to actually fucking touch them, the fantasies alone!_ – Dean reached over, took the toy, and walked to his bedroom. Part of him felt like he was leaving behind every fucking hope of salvation and acceptance.

_They want me?_

Pausing, Dean glanced back over his shoulder. Jimmy hadn’t budged, his grip white-knuckled on the edge of the counter, staring after Dean like he wanted to devour him.

 _They want me_.

His bedroom reeked of slick and come and pheromones. Reaching back, Dean shoved the door shut, lay on his bed, pulled his shorts down. Fingers weak, he opened the box, pulled out the length within. His hands were shaking as he grasped it, rubbery and thick, exactly what he needed.

 _Almost exactly_.

Uncertain, he stared at the black toy. It didn’t have a knot, but even so it looked large, stunningly appealing but alien. He doubted any of his friends would have believed him if he admitted that he was a virgin but most definitions. Dean ran a hand along the dildo. If he weren’t so hot, so desperate, he’d not have the nerve. As it was, he panted as he lay down on his back, hitched up his hips. The smell of lemon meringue burst to fill the air, dissipated Dean’s doubts. Pressing his nose against where Jimmy had sat earlier, he slotted the hard tip of the toy against his entrance and pushed something more than fingers inside himself for the first time.

A groan tore from his throat. He’d heard stories about people’s first time having anal sex, about it being difficult to fit a cock into inexperienced tightness, about extended time needed to lubricate and stretch even omegas, about discomfort and pain and tears. Dean experienced none of that. His pucker spread before the tip easily, his slick eased the way, and holy _shit_ it felt good. Closing his eyes, Dean allowed himself the fantasies he’d been fighting against, gave free license to his imagination to picture the identical twins in his bed, picture them touching him and filling him. The cock within him wasn’t a toy, it was Cas. The hand with which he teased his nipple to a taut nub, toying with the barbell piercing, wasn’t his own, it was Jimmy’s.

“Fuck yeah,” he whispered. Slowly drawing the toy out of himself, slowly thrusting it back in, his hips hitched to meet it. Adjusting his grip, he pushed it deeper, as deep as it would go, craving even more. Friction made pleasure course through his body, a particular place spiking it to greater heights – _my prostate, it’s got to be, just like Jimmy touched earlier_. Another slow withdrawal of the toy was all it took to crack his self-restraint and he slammed it back into himself hard.

_Cas’ weight atop him, hands on his shoulders holding him down, his legs raised to curl his ass up, expose him so that Cas could fill him and pound into him again and again and again._

Heedless of hurting himself, heedless of embarrassment, aware only of the demands of his body, Dean mimicked the fantasy, used the toy to fuck himself fast and hard, breathing in Jimmy’s scent deeply until he no longer was sure what was real and what wasn’t.

 _Jimmy straddled his face, using his hands to spread his cheeks wide so that Dean could strain up from the mattress, lick up every delicious drop of slick that leaked from Jimmy’s pucker. Reaching up, Dean slid a finger easily in alongside his tongue, freeing more precious fluid until he feared he’d choke on it, until he dreamed of how fucking_ glorious _it would be to choke on the delicious flavor. Jimmy moaned wantonly, pressing down to drive Dean deeper._

“Jimmy,” he panted, catching some of the sheet in his mouth and sucking at the fabric. Had he any shame left at that moment, he’d have been crimson and mortified, but all there was left was sensation and need and bliss. He was _filled_ , he was finally fucking _filled_.

 _I’m finally an omega, I’m really an omega_.

His free hand left his tortured nipple, ghosted tickling touch down his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt, wrapped around his cock. His knot was already thickening, teasing him with pain and bliss. Euphoria left him dizzy as the toy dragged through his channel, dragged over his prostate, with every thurst.

_Thrusting hard, unceasingly, knot catching at his rim, Cas shifted, rolled Dean’s hips up further, filled him even more deeply. Dean’s eyes fluttered open and shut as his tongue and fingers continued to work, his view of a thatch of dark hair, Jimmy’s balls, Jimmy’s hard cock dripping pre-come onto his forehead. A hand reached around as from nowhere, Cas’ hand, it had to be, and wrapped around Jimmy’s cock, stroking him insistently. More slick flooded Dean’s mouth and he moaned directly into that sensitive hole. Jimmy’s answering groan spoke to how close he was, or maybe that was how close Dean was, or how close Cas was. They each spurred each other on so that it was impossible to tell; Dean was hardly sure where he began and ended, where the twins began and ended, as they moved and moaned and edged towards climax together._

Making a tight ring of his fingers, Dean clasped them around his knot and massaged it hard, feeling it swell further at his touch. As rapidly as he filled himself, he stroked against the sensitive skin, moaning, dreaming—

_“Fuck, Cas, Jimmy, I’m going to – I am, I’m going to—”_

_A hand – he was too gone to tell whose – wrapped around his cock as Cas’ knot caught within him, as he felt himself swell with come, as Jimmy painted his forehead, and it was more than he could take._

Heat enveloped his cock, sultry and perfect, and Dean wailed in pleasure as he climaxed, sobbed as a second orgasm followed immediately as wonderful suction enveloped the sensitive head of his cock, sucked down on him hard. Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes, his grip on the toy stuttered, a hand wrapped around his and drove it deeper, pumped him through a third surge as he sobbed pleasure. Desperately, he tried to articulate the only concept that made any sense to him at that moment.

“ _Jimmy_ ,” he gasped out brokenly.

Fingers closed over his, squeezed at his knot, milked another climax from his body as the toy filled him yet again. Forcing his eyes open, Dean looked down to see Jimmy, his lips wrapped the head of Dean’s cock, his eyes closed, his expression rapturous, his throat fluttering as he swallowed, a thick stream of come leaking from the corner of his mouth. Dean slammed his head back against the bed, gasping through pleasure beyond anything he’d imagined, drunk on Jimmy’s scent, limp and over-stimulated to the point of pain. Jimmy was unrelenting as he sucked, he left the toy half-in, half-out of Dean’s body, reached down, and Dean heard the sound of a zipper lowering, heard the distinct sound of hand stroking over hard cock. Another orgasm left Dean breathless, earned a moan deep in Jimmy’s throat that shivered through Dean’s sensitive flesh, demanded even more from him, and Dean couldn’t help but give it, spurting yet again into Jimmy’s mouth.

“Stop,” he mouthed the word, unable to find any moisture in his mouth to give him voice. Licking his lips, he tried again only to choke on a groan as Jimmy lowered his head, took in more of him, swallowed around him. “Stop!”

With a moan, Jimmy pulled away, panting, the sound of his hand working over his length not slowing. 

“Maybe you were right,” Jimmy’s voice was breathy. Another stream of saliva and release dripped down his chin. “Maybe I should have left.” Jimmy groaned and as Dean watched wide-eyed, he recognized the exact instant when Jimmy came: his eyes rolled shut, his mouth went slack, and a grunt punched from his lungs. The smell was wonderfully intense and arousing, a burst of fresh lemon sweetened with sugar. The scent, the sounds, the look on Jimmy’s face, trembled one last climax from Dean’s body.

Eyes flickering open unfocused and flush with satisfaction, Jimmy looked up at Dean, looked down at his own hand, glanced to Dean’s cock, and laughed.

“What?”

“Cassie’s gonna kill me,” Jimmy managed, flopping on to the bed.

“Because you cheated on your mate?”

“Because I didn’t share.” Glancing around, Jimmy spotted Dean’s tissue box and pulled out a handful of tissues, used them to clean himself up. _What a waste_. Grabbing several more, he cleaned up Dean’s crotch, pulling the dildo out the rest of the way. Dean whimpered and folded in on himself. “Hey, you okay?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean managed faintly. “Yeah, I’m great. I...I never thought it’d feel so good.”

“Dildos are pretty excellent,” agreed Jimmy. “I mean, the real thing is better, but in a pinch...” Jimmy reached over and tweaked the loose skin of Dean’s stomach. Embarrassed, Dean flex his abs and Jimmy laughed again, dropping his sweaty head to rest on the bed. Reaching out, Dean gently brushed damp hair from Jimmy’s forehead and Jimmy looked up at him, smiling. “I heated some soup I found in your cabinet.”

“You made me dinner?” asked Dean. As the pleasure of his release slowly receded, he felt incredibly weak and drained, but also good, _relieved_. Satisfied, as if even though he’d not had a knot, he’d gotten at least some of what his body needed. “It’s almost like a date.” He hesitated. Jimmy looked so sated, so sweet, younger than he usually did. _Fuck, I hope they’re 18._ “Do I still smell fuckable?”

“Dean, you’ve smelled fuckable from the moment we met you,” said Jimmy, chuckling. “But no, right now you don’t smell so strongly that an alpha would jump you in public, if that’s what you mean. At least, you won’t if you take a shower. You should have a few hours. But you know that...” Dean shook his head. “You...don’t know that?”

“It’s my first heat,” Dean admitted, looking away.

“It’s your...”

“It’s my first heat,” Dean repeated.

“Dean, you’re _20_.”

 _No, I’m fucking not, I’m 19, I won’t be 20 for two months, and God I am sick of lying to people. I don’t want to lie to Jimmy and Cas. If, somehow, they’re actually interested, I want them to be interested in_ me _, not in a fiction of who I am._

“Gee, how’d I miss that?” said Dean sarcastically. “You know, for a few minutes there I actually managed to forget what a busted-ass mess I am. Thanks for reminding me. I needed that.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy’s smile made it clear how genuinely he meant the words. “I don’t think you’re a mess, Dean. I think you’re gorgeous and friendly and accepting and you smell like heaven.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t know me,” snapped Dean.

Weight moving caused the bed to shift. Warmth surrounded Dean’s body. Stubbornly, Dean refused to move, but his juvenile resistance didn’t end up mattering. Jimmy hovered over him, moved until Dean couldn’t help but see his face. Beautiful blue eyes met his own green, Jimmy’s smile gentle and affectionate.

“That’s true, I don’t yet, not really, but I’d like to,” Jimmy said. _God, how does he say shit like that so easily, like it’s nothing?_ Dean colored, nipped at his lip guiltily. “Now, you need to eat something. Come on, I cleaned up out there and made the soup. I found crackers, too. It probably got cold but we can heat it up quick in the microwave.”

Shoulders shaking, Dean struggled to bring his thoughts into a semblance of coherence. He was tired and aching, drained from his release but still slick from his heat. The urge to confess everything to Jimmy was frighteningly strong considering how critical Dean’s secrets were, how little he knew of the twins. Pushing the thoughts away, Dean focused on the moment. Of course he was tempted to make bad decisions, he was exhausted and hungry and dehydrated. Once he’d taken care of himself – once he let Jimmy take care of him – he’d be more rational. The desire to let his lust sweep him away, to urge to confuse this false intimacy with real intimacy, would fade.

“What’s the matter?” Jimmy asked, slipping into a frown that caused a painful twinge to Dean’s heart. He never wanted to see the gorgeous twin sad.

“Think Cassie would like to join us for our ‘date?’ ” Dean asked.

Jimmy’s sadness broke into a stunning, beautiful, beaming, blinding grin. “I think he’d love to.”

Ten minutes later saw Cas’ attendance confirmed, Jimmy finishing the clean up, and Dean standing in the cleansing, wonderful heat of the shower. As he washed away come and slick and sweat, Dean reflected on the past few days. It felt like, with the advent of his heat, a lot of questions he’d had for years had been answered. Now he knew what he’d been born to be. It didn’t help him understand what he was _now_ , but that was something he could work on figuring out afterwards. And, perhaps, he wouldn’t have to figure it out by himself.

“Hey, Cassie!”

Dean could hear Jimmy’s cheerful voice through the thin door and over the sound of the running shower. His voice, incongruously low from that slim body, sent a shiver down Dean’s spine.

“Hello, Jimmy. How is Dean?”

Cas’ voice was subtly different but no less alluring. He could hear the difference. He could smell the difference between them, too. Apparently that wasn’t normal for them. Why was he drawn to them? Why were they drawn to each other? What the hell was pulling the three of them together so inexorably?

“He’s going to be fine. This is his first heat.”

For years, Sammy had pushed for Dean to confide in him and Dean hadn’t been able to bring himself to do so. Sam was his brother, and Dean would do anything for him, but it had never felt right to unload his issues on the kid. There was still hope for Sam to be normal. Sam had presented normally, he’d grown up normally, he’d gone to school normally. Sam was perfect, except that he had a fucked up older brother who kept finding ways to make things harder for him.

“That’s unusual.”

_Even the twins who are mated think I’m busted. Who am I kidding?_

“No more unusual than we are.”

A warm glow that had nothing to do with his heat, nothing to do with the hot shower, suffused Dean, and he wondered if he dared to blow that spark into a fire. Jimmy and Cas were so sweet, so handsome, so smart, so accepting. He barely knew them and he already wanted them to distraction. When he was with Jimmy and Cas, Dean still felt like he had a chance to be normal.

“I didn’t mean to suggest that unusual was a bad thing. In fact, I think unusual is perfect.”

It would be frighteningly easy to get comfortable with them. It would be frighteningly easy to fall for them.

“He sure _smells_ perfect. Tastes pretty perfect, too.”

“You’d better share.”

“Oh, I will. He wants us to share him.”

“That’s amazing.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

Going forward, Dean would have to be on his guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean it this time - I'll be working on other stuff before I start the next chapter of this. :)


End file.
